When I introduce myself, I introduce myself
as a photographer.
I don't do photography, I am a photographer.
It's how I view the world.
It's how I interact with people.
It's how I make my connections.
It's how I document my life.
It's everything to me.
I think I have a very raw and honest way of photographing
and I try to have a very natural lens.
I've learned and honed my advocacy through photography.
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Kia ora.
My name's Becki Moss.
I am a 26-year-old full-time photographer.
I am demi and pansexual, a queer woman,
and I am also chronically ill and disabled.
I have chronic kidney disease and also,
as a result, severe hypertension, endometriosis,
and chronic fatigue syndrome.
Every day, I have morning meds, which
are two types of blood pressure medication.
I've got one supplement at the moment which
helps control urinary bacteria, gabapentin for pain,
antidepressant, the contraceptive pill to help
with my endometriosis.
Midday, I also take some more gabapentin.
Mom always jokes how long it would
take if I stopped taking my meds before I died,
which is a bit of dark humor, but I
think every parent with chronically ill kids
has some dark humor.
The way I would describe an invisible disability
is someone that doesn't look disabled to most
people in society.
Often they're taken less seriously.
It's something I'm very passionate about because I
think there needs to be more space in the rainbow community
and in rainbow community events for people
with all disabilities to actually be there.
In terms of mobility aids, I consider myself
ambulatory mobility aid user because my mobility needs
and accessibility needs fluctuate.
That also depends on what aid I will use at that time.
I have a cane/walking stick, I have a wheelchair,
and I also have this fold-up camping
chair I got from the op shop.
I went to the Matariki Te Karangahape event in May
last year here on Karangahape Road.
And I know at those events that there's
nowhere, really, to sit.
My partner at the time actually carried
a dining chair the whole way around for me
so that I always had somewhere to sit.
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So I'm just cleaning my camera gear
in preparation for going to Karangahape Road to photograph
some of the spots that are inaccessible to people
with disabilities.
This year, I really want to show how
things can be done differently and how the space can
be made more accessible.
Trying to keep an open mind, but also
not having hopes up too much.
I am 26.
I realized I was queer when I was 23.
And it wasn't until I actually became immersed
within the queer creative community
that I was able to really question my sexuality
and kind of realize it.
Queer portraits of Auckland started in 2019
and it was my first time immersing myself
into the rainbow community of Auckland.
I started going to events and asking people
to take their portraits.
I'm lucky so many of those people
are now my friends, at the time, complete strangers.
I think I see Karangahape as this incredible hub of history.
I think it's sometimes reductive for it
to be only seen as a queer space.
I read this great essay about how K road is not only
a safe haven for queer people, it's
a safe haven for many minorities and always has been.
And because of that, it is a safe haven for queer people.
I love Karangahape road.
It is, however, extremely inaccessible,
which is why I don't spend as much time here as I want to,
and why a lot of my disabled friends
don't spend as much time here as they want to.
I love going to gigs here, but they're tiny.
They come downstairs.
I have friends who can't go downstairs.
People often talk about the disabled community
as the big minority that no one ever thinks about and no
one talks about.
And I think that rings true within the queer community that
is supposed to be a very open, accepting, and welcoming space.
It's been really good to actually just take the time
to slowly look around and take note of all those little bits
that you don't notice.
You don't realize how inaccessible
those are for people who do use wheelchairs all the time.
More people would benefit from actually taking a moment
to stop and look at the ground that they're walking on.
I knew that there was always a mobility parking bay here.
I didn't, however, realize that it's only for 30 minutes
because disabled people only eat dinner for 30 minutes.
Why the limit?
Most of the places for parking mobility bays in Auckland
are 120 or 60 minutes minimum.
It also has an actual ledge to get off the road.
So it's inaccessible for a lot of people and this
is the only one.
And there's a lot of restaurants and everything down here.
An Uber just completely missed out this entire segment
that it could have stopped in to stop there.
Yeah, it's kind of pointless.
Even though that it technically exists,
it's not accessible in multiple different ways.
Even just the fact of parking there and having buses
actively have to drive around you would feel awful.
Things like that make people feel awful.
My hopes for the future of the queer disabled community
is that we get a voice and our voice gets louder and louder.
I hope it is safe enough, COVID-wise,
for us to be in spaces, and that when we're back
allowed in those spaces that those spaces are
a little bit more accessible and understanding.
If there was a way that there could be more funding
to retrofit or refit out these buildings to make
them more accessible, it would be amazing.
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