My husband is a teen rape victim, falsely accused of rape by the ex-girlfriend who accompanied him to the psychologist and to court at the time he had his abuser charged. His psychiatrist, with over 50 years of experience in sexual abuse cases, maintains that he was wrongfully convicted. I even found a witness that his ex-girlfriend wilfully lied and laughed about it. But police declined to investigate further.

She had cunningly woven her story around kernels of facts, and the defence lawyers advised my husband to take the plea bargain, as “nobody will believe you” and “going to trial is considered re-victimising the victim”.

As a graduate of the T.C. Beirne School of Law at the University of Queensland, admitted to the Supreme Court of the ACT, I am terribly dismayed at the way #MeToo ideology has stripped Australian criminal law of the safeguards meant to protect the innocent. Whatever happened to “proven guilty beyond reasonable doubt”? Anyone who knows the full story knows there was massive reason for doubt.

Immigration Debacle and Education Considerations

Because of this, even though my husband was granted permanent residency in Singapore to raise our family together here, he was denied entry at the airport. However, our children being already Singaporean citizens, and my aged mother having waited several years for us to join her as she descended into dementia, we decided to have a go at commencing our progeny’s Singaporean education and appealing for my husband to join us.

(We did try an Australian kindergarten for some months, but the behavioural differences were stark – videos of class presentations in Brisbane showed the other students horsing around in the background and the teacher valiantly trying to hush them, while in Singapore, the preschoolers are able to sit quietly and pay attention, and learn much more advanced phonics.

Also, our Eurasian son was called “chinky” and a “baby” for being smaller than his Anglo-Aussie classmates, and even punched and pushed until he hit his head on a rock. None of this was reported to us by the educators. In Singapore, the teachers have been careful to log and swiftly report every incident, such as when a girl pulled out a chair from under our son; he was checked for injuries, and she was duly corrected.

In a food court at an Australian mall, our toddlers were called “F—king Asians” by an elderly woman who sat down near us. Their forebears fought for Australia in both World Wars. I would like them to grow up in a country where they are not treated as second-class citizens just because of their skin.

Furthermore, our son has to serve in the Singapore military or civil defence forces when he turns 18. My paternal ancestors were prominent pioneers in colonial Singapore, and I would like my children to enjoy their heritage and their birthright, with rich cultures and a communal society. In Singapore, multiculturalism works, probably as the disparate cultures and religions are held together by common conservative values and a determination to maintain harmony after the deadly riots of the 1960s.)

Fathering from Afar 

As our children are just 1, 3 and 5 years old, and my husband has a warm and loving personality, our offspring miss their father tremendously. I felt terrible early last year as our little daughter clutched my phone to her chest and sobbed for her Daddy. One night, our son wept bitterly, missing his father. I could only hold him as the sobs racked his small body.

My husband’s deep voice calms them when nothing else can, so his phone is no longer on silent mode at night; even across the miles, he joins in the sleep deprivation of early parenting, waking at odd hours to sing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” to our children (somehow we still haven’t got around to recording it!).

He also reads storybooks to them over WhatsApp video calls. This evening, our baby selected “Baby Giggle”, and he brought the words to life with his customary animation.

Recently, our one-year-old has started hugging the phone like her siblings do, and Daddy responds with an enthusiastic “squishy cuddles!” We were blessed to have had the last two weeks with him in Perth. The older two ran immediately to Daddy, but the littlest was stunned for some moments and took awhile to warm back up. She doesn’t speak yet, and she probably didn’t expect Dad to go from 2D to 3D.

My husband also backs up my parenting decisions over the video calls, while tempering my anger and impatience when I get exhausted solo parenting. He is the voice of calm reason, reminding our children to “listen to Mummy” and explaining to them that while they have boundless energy for the many playgrounds around our home, Mummy needs rest!

At times, we pray together over the phone, and he joins in pivotal family moments as best he can, like our son’s fourth birthday celebration and our house blessing. We call as often as possible, during his breaks at work and the moment he finishes work. Our children may not be able to run to the front door to embrace Daddy, but he is still as present as he can be despite being on a different continent. I involve him in everyday decisions, asking his opinion on yet another tantalising toy purchase or depending on him for administrative procedures like renewing a child’s passport.

When our son had a massive injury to his neck a few months ago, it was particularly difficult as I could not be with him in the X-ray theatre, as I had to stay with his little sisters. Daddy stepped up through video call, soothing our son in the unfamiliar environment.

Thankfully, my cousin and her husband were able to take the girls when our boy was warded, but the baby and my cousin didn’t get to bed until 4 a.m. — baby is still nursing, and it was her first night ever away from me! Such moments make the daily ache of missing my husband even harder.

We look forward to the day our family can properly reunite in one place, but in the meantime, we are grateful for the blessing of modern technology allowing us to see each other every day. I read a story of a young lady whose father lived and worked abroad from the time she turned five, and she did not see him for twenty years. Hopefully we shall not end up in such straits, particularly with the rising cost of air travel!

I pray every day for justice and mercy in our case, though after having tried every avenue, hope has dwindled. It is difficult for our children to grow up in the shadow of their father’s past, but for now, we are protecting them and their childhood as best we can, forging happy memories at every opportunity.