Saleh and I on our wedding day - a long and nervous wait for a protection visa followed. It was for my husband who was until last Thursday, an asylum seeker. One week ago we received a phone call that ended more than two years of anxious waiting - his protection visa had been approved and he had been granted permanent residency. In my husband Saleh's case, he had originally come to Australia as an international student before returning home to an Arab nation. In 2010 a change in circumstances put him at risk of state and state-sponsored persecution, including imprisonment, violence or even execution if he remained there. He made preparations to return to Australia but we weren't sure if his student visa was still valid, as his enrollment had been cancelled. We didn't know whether he would be granted entry to Australia or even be able to leave his country.

In terms of asylum, Australia is a place of protection for those who cry out for sanctuary. Once they reach our shores, they are safe – at least for the time being. It is the UN Refugee Convention that obliges Australia to shelter those who cross into our migration zone. The government has tried in the past to sidestep this obligation by taking asylum seekers to Manus Island and Nauru, outside the migration zone, to apply offshore. However, offshore applications take years and only a small minority will ever receive a visa to come to Australia. Saying asylum seekers who arrive by boat should wait and apply offshore is like telling someone to sit in a burning house and "wait their turn" until a firefighter comes to save them. The offshore process would have offered Saleh little safety; he could have been killed or jailed long before a visa arrived in the mail and so I began to consider other options that could bring him onshore. Fake passports, people smugglers, even a rickety boat. Anything. Saying asylum seekers who arrive by boat should wait and apply offshore is like telling someone to sit in a burning house and "wait their turn" until a firefighter comes to save them.

Thankfully, his student visa had not yet been cancelled and he was able to leave his country and arrive by plane – one of 6316 asylum seekers who arrived by plane that year. In comparison, 5175 asylum seekers arrived by boat. That year 13,799 humanitarian visas were granted (8971 of them offshore, 4828 of them onshore), while 168,685 people migrated through the family or skilled migration streams. Once safely onshore, the next step for Saleh was applying for a Protection Visa, Class XA. I don't know whether to laugh or cry when people say claiming asylum is an easy way "in". The asylum seeker application places the onus of proof on the applicant – it's up to an asylum seeker to prove they are refugees, rather than the government proving they are not.

The process is rigorous and immeasurably hard on applicants, especially those who have suffered trauma. Rape and torture victims are asked to recount to strangers in graphic detail what occurred to them. Then they are asked for "proof". For boat arrivals, they have the added burden of being locked up and treated like dangerous criminals. In this respect, we were fortunate. Despite the many advantages we had, the immigration interview was one of the worst experiences of my life. Saleh, myself and our migration agent were ushered into a small room with the immigration case worker, a middle-aged man with a strong British accent. My husband and our agent sat across the desk from the interviewer. I was given a chair in the corner, and told I would not be permitted to speak. We had been told these interviews usually lasted at least two hours, but could run as long as 4 or even 6 hours, while being grilled on minute details. After about 10 minutes I was already frantic. The interviewer's aggressive questioning felt like being on trial and we were already emotionally fraught. Saleh's English was fluent but I noticed points he had missed, details which were important in proving his case. As a journalist with immigration experience I was equipped with the skilles to deal with the situation and yet I was unable to help remind him of a point, or interject when I knew he had misunderstood a question.

I have never felt so dis-empowered in my life. The interview ended abruptly and the caseworker told us he would make a decision on Saleh's case within seven days, but that we would only be informed of the decision after all the security checks had been completed. For two years we waited to be told the outcome of that interview, while security checks were pending. On the day we drove away from the interview in silence, tears streaming down our faces, certain the interview had gone badly and consumed with grief and despair, unable even to comfort one another. Saleh was issued a bridging visa and we moved on with life as best we could. As a non-resident his opportunities were limited, but we made do. Because he wasn't in detention he could work, support himself and pay tax, an option boat arrivals are denied, yet they are still blamed for being "dole bludgers".

The nagging feeling of insecurity never left the back of our minds, at times bubbling to the surface in frustration. After two years without any answers I began to really struggle with the complete lack of information as we waited. I have no idea how asylum seekers locked in detention for three or four years cope, especially when many of them have already suffered trauma. When the call finally came, it was surreal. The moment we had prayed for and thought about for years had finally come. All I could think was, "he's safe". A few days later a boat laden with 66 people who had spent 44 days exposed to the elements, without shelter, space to lie down and probably inadequate food and sewerage, arrived in Geraldton. The vitriol and anger levelled at these people is astounding. Putting their lives at risk to come here on a boat does not make them lazy, dishonest, welfare cheats or criminals. It makes them desperate. Surely hatred is not the right response to desperation? I am not advocating people smuggling, but it is the smugglers and corrupt officials in the countries from which they depart who must be targeted.

Border security is important, but it is organised crime and drug smugglers who pose the real risk. Illegally staying in Australia is a problem – but, under the law, asylum seekers are not illegal. The real illegals are those who overstay tourist visas and simply never leave, or people who lie and come in on the wrong visa class to evade government regulation. Watch Border Security. These are the real criminals. We have no problem accepting British families who migrate here "for the weather", or foreign retirees who come to spend the rest of their days enjoying the Australian "lifestyle". But a boatload of desperate people who just want safety, democracy, first world freedoms, education and a chance at a better life are demonised like rabid dogs. Shame, Australia. Follow WAtoday on Twitter