Tahnee's daily routine is written on a whiteboard. It's a reminder of what she must do to keep her children in her care. 

The family has been assessed as high-risk by the New South Wales Department of Communities and Justice (DCJ), due to concerns about substance abuse, gambling, family conflict and school attendance.

Just 6 per cent of Australian kids are Aboriginal and/or Torres Strait Islander, yet they make up almost half of all children in out-of-home care.

For legal reasons, we cannot tell you Tahnee's real name, but what we can tell you is that she's determined to keep her family together.

"[They mean] everything," she says of her nine-year-old daughter and seven-year-old son. 

"They make my heart beat."

Tahnee, 31, has been given two years to turn things around. 

"I'd fight for them as long as I can. I wouldn't give up on my kids," she told 7.30.

Under the National Agreement on Closing the Gap, federal, state and territory governments along with peak bodies have all committed to halving the rate of First Nations children in out-of-home care by 2031.

Yet despite more than 60 inquiries putting forward solutions to reform the child protection system, the rate of over-representation is the worst it has ever been. 

The Family Matters report found that as of June 2022, there were 22,328 Indigenous children in out-of-home care. 

This was the highest number on record.

That same report also found Indigenous children are over-represented in the system across every state and territory.

A mother's journey to help

Tahnee grew up in outback NSW and was raised by her grandmother from the age of seven.

Her own mother was removed from care as a child and later battled drug addiction.

"She doesn't know how to cope with it, you know, [she] doesn't know where to get the help from because she's been let down from all these different organisations over the years," Tahnee said of her mother.

"She was on drugs, that was her coping mechanism."

Tahnee says she was first exposed to marijuana at the age of nine.

"I was hooked straight away, I liked the taste and the smell, and I used to chase it all the time," she said.

"I started around the wrong kids and getting into trouble with the police and started ... getting into drugs."

In her early 20s, Tahnee experienced domestic violence and continued to struggle with addiction. She decided she needed help and reached out to the department for support.

"I signed myself into rehab, and I was in there for a few months, the kids were with carers, [and] I was visiting them every week," she recalled.

Within two weeks of getting out of rehab, Tahnee had her children back in her care and they were all placed in a home together.

But years on, she continues to grapple with addictions to alcohol, cannabis and gambling. It was in April that she reached out for help and was referred to a support service by and for Aboriginal people — Narang Bir-rong.

The support she receives from the caseworkers can be anything from help cleaning the house to buying groceries and establishing daily routines.

"I had a meeting once with the school, [and] one of my caseworkers actually came along and supported me with the meeting, which was good," she said.

"They also take me to appointments and things where I need to go.

"They've been very supportive with me … a helping hand takes you a long way."

High stakes for everyone involved

Amanda Klinar has been working with Tahnee for more than three months and is also one of the program managers at Narang Bir-rong. 

In her line of work, the stakes don't get much higher.

"The families that we get are identified as really vulnerable, and by the time they get to our service, the vulnerabilities have increased so much that the department almost considers removal," the Kamilaroi woman said.

"We're that final stage before they get to that."

What the caseworkers provide is a pair of helping hands and support.

"Sometimes we need to work on routines in the home with our families," Ms Klinar said.

"That might mean helping mum create a routine around cleaning, getting the kids to school, shower times, meal times, and our caseworkers can do that.

"There's been times where caseworkers have gone in, got mum to put the slow cooker on, teaching mum how to cook."

Over the past year, Narang Bir-rong worked with 45 families and 135 children. They successfully kept 119 children from entering care.

"We're finding that it is really working … and I think a lot of us believe it's because we're having Aboriginal community-controlled organisations come into these homes and making an impact," Ms Klinar said.

She said when a removal does happen, it's "really devastating".

"It takes a toll as well with workers and obviously on the family, but there are times where children do need to be assumed into care, because the risks can't be eliminated."

In New South Wales, 13 per cent of child protection funding goes towards early intervention and family support.

Aboriginal organisations receive about a tenth of that funding.

"We know that we're equipped to be able to help our families, we're ready now," Ms Klinar said.

"We need services coming in to support families before it gets to the extent that it does before we're getting our referrals … targeted early intervention has been proven to keep our kids at home."

The NSW Minister for Families and Communities Kate Washington told 7.30 in a written statement that "the NSW Government is committed to ensuring more families have access to culturally appropriate services".

The system 'broke my family'

At the age of 11, Tyrah Chan-Hampton experienced an ordeal that will never leave her. She heard a knock at the bathroom door, then her entire life changed.

"Me and my sister had no idea what was happening, we were in the shower ... mucking around," Ms Chan-Hampton told 7.30.

"We put our towel on, go walk out, and there's about five police officers just standing right outside at the door.

"We see mum, we see my Aunty, we see my cousins, my brothers, all in tears, crying, and I think that's when it hit, this is very serious."

Tyrah was told to put on pyjamas and was then taken by caseworkers.

"I didn't want to leave, I'm clinging on to my mum … and the police officers physically removed me off her, trying to get me away from my mum," she said.

7.30 asked the NSW Minister for Families and Communities why police are involved in removals. The Minister did not provide comment.

At the time, Tyrah says her mum was dealing with substance addiction, following a string of traumatic life events.

"Mum struggled with addiction and drug use, and I guess that that was the main reason why we were removed," she said.

"Mum's [now] doing very, very well … it's just incredible to see the change that my mum has made in the last 10 years, and I'm incredibly proud of her."

When Tyrah was removed, she was placed in kinship care with her Aunty but still maintained a relationship with her mum. However, the system took a toll on her.

She had about 20 caseworkers in just eight years.

"You would meet a caseworker, build some type of rapport with that caseworker, and then three months later [they aren't] your caseworker anymore, you have someone new," she said.

"I've shared my story so many times that I'm actually sick of sharing my story now, and it was just so frustrating.

"The system is so broken… and we're just blindly letting this happen.

"I experienced more harm within the system than what I ever did when I was at home … it broke my family, and we're still trying to pick up the pieces."

Now Tyrah is working towards a career in social work. It is not a job she ever imagined herself doing.

"I never want another child or young person to have that experience. And it's sad that it's, you know, still occurring to this day," she said.

'We are at a complete crisis'

Nationally, once Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children enter the system, only one in six will return to their family.

Many will end up in youth detention. One survey found almost three-quarters of Indigenous children in detention had prior contact with the child protection system.

"We are at a complete crisis," says Vanessa Turnbull-Roberts, who grew up in foster care in New South Wales from age 10.

She went on to become a human rights lawyer, and was this year named the Australian Capital Territory's first commissioner for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children.

"The system is not built for our people, and that's why it's not working," Ms Turnbull-Roberts said.

"What we know is the funding needs to be driven into the hands of community-controlled organisations."

Nationally, reforms are underway to make that happen, but progress varies from state to state.

The New South Wales government said it would transfer case management of all Aboriginal kids to Aboriginal organisations by 2022. So far only a fifth of cases have changed hands.

At the current pace, an audit found the process will take a staggering 57 years.

Ms Washington said previous governments had failed to deliver on that pledge and vowed to do better.

"The NSW Government recognises that Aboriginal families have been disproportionately impacted by child protection practices in the past," her statement read.

"Reducing the over-representation of Aboriginal children in the child protection system is a key priority of the NSW Government."

Looking to the future

Tahnee now attends a parenting group and is about to go back into rehab. But in just a few months, the department will decide if the children are safe at home or not.

Child removals have been in Tahnee's family for generations, yet says she's determined to break that cycle.

"[I'm] very determined, very determined," Tahnee told 7.30.

"That's why I came from the country to the city, you know, to give my little kids a good education, good life and good friends.

"I just want to have a stable life, for me and my kids.

"I want them to have a good education, a house and a yard so they can run around, so we can get a pet and things like that."