Monday was a very emotional day for many people across Australia and in my electorate of Ballarat.

The national apology that we witnessed is a welcome step, and it will be and was a very important moment for many survivors.

The apology is a recognition that finally, after far too long, the Australian government and the entire Australian community have at last listened to survivors and advocates.

 The apology is an acknowledgement that successive governments have grossly failed in their responsibility to protect the most vulnerable in our communities.

 It's an apology that, while long overdue, I have mixed emotions about.

 It can never be enough.

 No words and no deeds can ever be enough because of what has happened.

 The most important role of government, its integral duty, is to protect our citizens.

 Government is meant to be a shield that protects those most at risk and offers a hand to those who need it.

 When we hear the stories of those abused by the people they trusted and the failure of authorities, communities, schools, sporting groups, Scouts, Girl Guides, youth groups, churches, police and government institutions and organisations, including the ADF, it is clear that we failed.

 It is a failure that has had to be carried by survivors and their families ever since, and one that they will have to go on carrying for the rest of their lives.

 Ballarat, the community which I'm honoured to represent in this place, knows all too well the legacy of child sexual abuse.

 Generations have been hurt in Ballarat by the cruel acts committed in our schools, our institutions  and our churches across the city.

 When we heard the stories of the royal commission when it carried out hearings in our town, it shone a light on what had, for too long, been buried in our community and in communities all around the country.

 I cannot thank enough or speak highly enough of those survivors who were able to tell their stories.

 And to the many who were not, we absolutely want you to know that you are believed as well.

 Many of these people were not telling their story for the first time; it was just that this was the first time that they were actually heard and listened to.

 Shamefully, this reckoning came too late for many who had passed away—as the Prime Minister said earlier, too often by their own hand.

 When the royal commission sat in Ballarat, we heard the story of a woman who attended a primary school in Ballarat in the 1970s.

 She had a photograph of the grade 4 class at that school.  Of the 33 boys pictured, 12 in that class had committed suicide. There were 33 boys in that photo, all of them ten years of age.  Twelve are dead.  There are 21 survivors.  Twelve lives were cut too short.

 For some, we will never know if that was because of the actions of the clergy, the teachers, the staff and the authorities who ran the school that committed these crimes and failed to act.

 Twenty-one more lives were altered forever because of the cruelty and the evil of those who were in a position of authority to do something.

 When you look at a school photo of yourself at that age, you look at the faces of those around you.  My little boy is in grade 4 and he's 10 this year.  You think of the last time you saw those children.

 You remember the times you spent with them.

 You think about what they're doing now, and it's almost impossible to put into words that such a tragedy could occur.

 You cannot comprehend how you would feel to be a mum of any of those 33 boys.

 Even worse, as I said, you can imagine any of your own loved ones in that class, but your mind can't even think about or understand what that could mean.

 At that school, all of the male teachers and the chaplain, every single one of them, were molesting children.

 What is a child meant to do and where can they find help in those circumstances? It's incomprehensible: the fear, the uncertainty, the confusion, the hopelessness, the misplaced shame and the terror.

 To live through that, to string together a life after such betrayal and hurt, is nothing short of heroic.

 I remember Phil Nagle, one Ballarat survivor and tireless campaigner, described the crimes committed as basically a crime against humanity.

 These were crimes which denied the humanity of those children and stole the lives that should have been theirs.

 The perpetrators showed a disgusting and terrifying lack of humanity as they abused those under their care.

 Those above them showed a terrifying lack of humanity as they put the interests of their organisations against these defenceless children.

 The school and the building where these crimes occurred is still there.

 Its towering red brick buildings stand prominently on your left as you come into my hometown.

 Now, its fences are covered in ribbons, symbolising that the victims are remembered and that they are believed, and that these crimes could never be allowed to reoccur.

 There is a reason the Loud Fence Movement started in my hometown.

 It symbolises that the children who go to that school today are safe and that they are happy, but that every one of us in our community remembers what happened there.

 Similarly, occupying an entire block of the grand old Sturt Street, St Patrick's Cathedral—the centre of the diocese which the royal commission described as showing a 'catastrophic failure of leadership'—now has in place the memorial garden recognising the crimes of the past.

 Ballarat has begun its reckoning with the crimes of the past, just as communities all around the country have.

 I have never had more respect for anyone in my life than I do for the survivors of such crimes, both those who came forward to tell their stories and those who are not yet ready and may never be ready to do so.

 It is for horrors such as those that occurred at that primary school and were repeated at other sites across the region and the nation that the apology occurred.

 Any government worthy of the name should have been protecting those children, should have ensured that laws were in place that ensured children had somewhere to go for help and ensured that institutions could not ignore what was going on under their watch.

 I understand that many of the survivors in the community in Ballarat and across the country are conflicted and some are opposed to the apology that occurred yesterday.

 One survivor was quoted in the front page of my local newspaper yesterday, saying, 'A solid apology is the least that they can do', and she is right.

 The events of Monday are symbolic, and that is important.  But what is, of course, even more important is providing the support needed to survivors, giving them justice for the crimes that have been committed against them and ensuring that such acts never happen to children again.

 Just as those memorials at buildings, schools and churches around Ballarat signify community support for survivors, the apology does signify the parliament's support.

 As the survivors of Ballarat say: 'We do need to do more'.

 The parliament has already passed the National Redress Scheme.  This legislation is not perfect.  It's not the scheme the royal commission recommended. It would be remiss of me in this place to not say what we need to do to rectify the scheme, to rectify the harms of the past and to make sure that survivors in my electorate are given the assistance that they need.

 Survivors do and will need ongoing support.  They need counselling and they need financial support, and they need it in full and as quickly as possible. We know that the commission recommended $200,000 as a maximum for redress claims.  It now sits at $150,000.

 It's impossible to put a price on the childhood lost and the ongoing trauma, but to reduce the amount recommended by the commission was, frankly, a mistake.

 Too many have already died without receiving justice and we cannot let any more pass without receiving their due.

 When it comes to the opt-in nature of the scheme, my concerns are well and truly on the record, but I again reiterate: for any institution to not be part of this scheme, perpetrates the violence and the criminality that was done against those children and the institutions need to be held to account.

 There are more than 60,000 survivors of institutional sexual abuse in Australia.

 Where that abuse took place should have absolutely no bearing whatsoever on the redress and support given to survivors.

 Over the years, I've heard countless story of survivors who have never been able to work, who have in later years lost jobs and businesses, and who are suffering from significant financial insecurity.

 I've heard and seen the generational effects of this trauma, how it carries on down the years and has caused a wound through the heart of our entire community that is yet to heal.

 Of course, many never, ever heal; they just manage.

 These stories are all around us and they're part of the history of my community—incomprehensible acts of cruelty, neglect and abuse which are impossible to imagine and forget.

 These are acts that occurred in the centre of our community, in the schools and parishes, fire brigades and sporting clubs across our community.

 I'm sorry that there are many who were not able to be in the parliament and in Canberra to witness the words that were spoken in this place and to see the emotion.

 I know many were watching from home in Ballarat, and there are many who simply couldn't face hearing those words.

 The apology was not about politicians or us.

 It was about the survivors, the survivors who are with us today and those who are not, those who died as children in care, and those who died later in adult life, the burden of what happened to them too much to bear.

We are truly and deeply, as a nation, sorry.​