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Looking out over Wellington city. Photo: Getty Images
Looking out over Wellington city. Photo: Getty Images

SocietyJanuary 18, 2018

I’m a civil servant and I can no longer afford to rent in Wellington

Looking out over Wellington city. Photo: Getty Images
Looking out over Wellington city. Photo: Getty Images

Following our report on the increasingly chaotic rental market in Wellington, one young government employee explains why she’s being forced to leave town. 

As told to Don Rowe.

I have been living in Wellington since 2010 and I have been left homeless four times during my seven years here. Despite being a professional civil servant in my mid-twenties, things aren’t getting any easier for me. I have decided to jump ship and move to Dunedin after my lease runs out.

I’m fortunate enough that my mum lives here, but she also lives in a one bedroom flat. The last time I stayed it put major stress on our relationship. I was staying with friends as much as possible, sleeping in their beds and everything, but having to share space with people for unknown amounts of time is incredibly stressful for everybody. It was a huge source of anxiety for me in general. 

Most of my friends have had to do the same; as soon as someone found a flat we all had to squeeze until someone else found their own place, but it took ages. I have one friend who couldn’t find a short-term rental so he’s sleeping in a roof. There are holes in the walls, every time it rains the place leaks, but the only time they hear from the landlord is when the rent is going up or, like recently, when the landlords decided they wanted to move in and fix it up.

At one stage I even had to call in a favour and move in with my ex-boyfriend. That was bad and I left after a week. But the alternative was living back with my mum which hard to reach from the CBD. I couldn’t go out, couldn’t go to parties, couldn’t do anything without somewhere to stay because it was so difficult to get back. I honestly just don’t think I could do another stint of living on a couch again, now that I’m nearly 26. 

Last year I went to an uncountable amount of viewings, most of them during the day – meaning I had to take time off work to get there. My friends and I, all professionals in our late 20s, collated an extensive CV to take with us, knowing that the competition was stiff. We cottoned on pretty quickly that the rent advertised on websites was just a guideline. Some prices were updated within 30 minutes of being published, and offering higher bids became the new norm.

Landlords are actively participating in this auctioning because, and this is a quote, “it’s the way things are at the moment”. I can only imagine how difficult it must be for students to secure flats if professionals like me are struggling.

Many of the houses that my friends and I visited were not up to living standards. Landlords were expecting us to pay above and beyond what the place was worth for a poorly insulated, damp and dingy hole. One of my friends viewed a three bedroom flat in Mt Victoria where the so-called third bedroom was a gib wall in the centre of the room with no windows. Another was a feral flat where the entire floor was littered with trash, the carpets stained, basically unliveable. The landlord had obviously not checked in on the flat before the viewing but knew that people were so desperate that anyone would take it.

Even so, most of the places we went to had lines out the door. And most places we applied for never actually got back to us, so we were left in limbo, and we just had to assume after a week or so that it wasn’t going to happen. One place was listed as a two-bedroom house so we turned up to this dingy flat in Mt Victoria and one of the rooms was literally a wardrobe. It couldn’t fit a double bed, maybe a single, and that was it. No drawers or anything. We overheard some students who were also looking at it trying to psych themselves up that it was a good flat and we were just like ‘this is a joke’. The fact that students are expected to live in such holes is just crazy.

And that’s the disappointing thing. The flats are expensive but they’re also terribly kept. I’ve never lived in an insulated flat, whereas somewhere like Dunedin most houses are listed as having insulation and central heating and so on. I just wonder why Wellington doesn’t have the same standards.

I ended up spending over a month couch surfing before I locked in a flat. And it was because we offered our landlord more money, something like $50 extra per week, as it was starting to look like we would never find anything. The house was in great condition, a restored villa, and our landlord was kind, but in typical Wellington fashion there was very little insulation, no heat pump, no means of heating the place at all.

I recently found out our rent is going up another $15 per room, which means the house is almost $700 for a three bedroom place in the depths of Newtown. I feel I have no option but to leave. I’m earning a reasonable salary for my age, I’m university educated, but at the end of the week I am unable to put money towards things that my parents were able to in their twenties, like travelling or maybe buying a first home.

It’s frustrating that I can’t afford to go overseas even though it’s all I’ve wanted to do for such a long time. It’s incredibly frustrating that I can’t afford to do any of the cool things I thought I would have done with my life by now. When I saved for a short trip to America I did everything I could, including walking to work which is a full hour each way. I needed every cent for it to be possible, and so I couldn’t afford to spend $7 a day commuting.

When public servants can’t afford to live in Wellington it’s pretty fucked. My mum is a renter as well. She also works for the government and she said that she knows for a fact she’ll never be able to leave her flat because she’ll never find another one she can afford. Her house is tiny. It’s joined to three other flats. It’s not insulated. It’s freezing in winter. She’s 67. Things aren’t looking great for people.

I’m looking at flats in Dunedin at the moment. Most three bedroom houses are listed around the $330 mark, a far cry from what it looks like in Wellington at the moment. And what’s more the houses are more often than not insulated with a heat pump, double glazed windows, an HRV system. It’s no wonder places like Dunedin and Whanganui are looking more appealing to many of us approaching our 30s.

I’ll miss Wellington a lot. I’ll miss the food and the culture and the city. But in order for me to do anything I want to do, anything more than just survive, I need to live somewhere else. And basically everybody I’ve ever flatted with is leaving too.

If you’d like to get in touch with The Spinoff to confidentially talk about renting in Wellington, email don@thespinoff.co.nz

Keep going!
A menstrual cup (Photo: erikaboo / CC-BY-SA-4.0)
A menstrual cup (Photo: erikaboo / CC-BY-SA-4.0)

SocietyJanuary 17, 2018

Stop guilting poor people into using menstrual cups

A menstrual cup (Photo: erikaboo / CC-BY-SA-4.0)
A menstrual cup (Photo: erikaboo / CC-BY-SA-4.0)

The indestructible, environmentally friendly, unlimited use menstrual cup has been celebrated as the answer to ‘period poverty’. But they’re not for everyone, writes Andrea Nielsen-Vold.

Menstrual cups are little reusable vessels that collect menstrual blood and can be used over and over again. They have been deemed a solution to the problem of managing your menstrual flow when you don’t have much money, or no money at all – so-called ‘period poverty’. But are these little cups really the answer?

I want to be clear: I think menstrual cups are great, and I use one myself. I am the person behind Go With The Flow Hawke’s Bay, a not-for-profit organisation that provides menstrual products to those who can’t afford them. And while I personally stopped using disposable products a few years ago, I still provide them for others. This means I often have to defend what I do.

My commitment to continuing to provide disposable products, when in theory one little menstrual cup could solve everything forever, comes down to one thing: Choice.

I believe people should have a choice in what they do with their bodies, particularly what they place inside their bodies.

You may think that offering someone who has no proper solution to managing their period a free menstrual cup is offering them a choice, but here’s how it’s not. Offering menstrual cups without a how-to education programme and ongoing support is actually forcing someone to take your offer without their buy-in. You’re placing them in a position of ‘beggars can’t be choosers’ and you’re giving them what you think is a solution without checking that they agree. When someone has next to nothing, they often feel they must take up this free offer, whether they want it or not, and then these cups don’t get used. I’ve got cups sitting around that were donated to Go With The Flow Hawke’s Bay over a year ago because I give people that choice – and no one wants them.

And why would that choice be no? Many reasons. Sexual abuse. Damage from childbirth. A lack of a stable living environment, no guaranteed access to a bathroom at all times, no hot water, inability to access YouTube, Google and Facebook to troubleshoot problems. And equally as valid: they just don’t want to.

I’m not saying that every programme that offers free menstrual cups is wrong, not at all. There are some excellent examples of programmes where education and ongoing support are provided – Auckland-based United Sustainable Sisters is one. There are no doubt boundless others, and just because I’m not naming your programme doesn’t mean you’re not one of them. But I’m dubious about how many of these free menstrual cups have actually become a long term solution.

We know from recent events that Aotearoa has an issue with unconditional giving. True unconditional giving means ignoring our own feelings or preconceptions about what’s best for the recipient. If the recipient just wants some disposable pads and tampons, then giving without condition means that’s what we provide – even if we think a menstrual cup would be the better solution. To use someone’s lack of choice as a way to push our agenda on them is conditional giving. And that’s actually more about how the giver feels than what the recipient wants.

So why do we continue to use ‘poor bodies’ to make ourselves feel good? Many people who aren’t in poverty don’t want to use a menstrual cup, so why are people with very limited means any different in their right to bodily autonomy? Why are we focusing on the most vulnerable people in order to reduce our own guilt on the imprint humans have on the planet? These are questions we really need to sit with, and as uncomfortable as they are, we need to have a good look at ourselves and ask why we’re doing this.

While we’re at it, can we please stop talking about how easy menstrual cups are? They may be easy for some people, or even a lot of people, but the myth that they are really easy for everyone – “you just have to stick with it” – is full of so much judgement. Judgement that if it didn’t work for you, you just didn’t try hard enough. And you also mustn’t really care about the state of the planet.

You know what? You have to get REALLY up close and personal with your body when you use a cup. Like RIGHT IN THERE. And for many reasons, not everyone is OK with that. Then there’s the issue of finding the right size and firmness. I’m personally onto my third cup. Learning about my body has been great, but I know it’s because of my own privilege that I’ve been able to do so. Maybe the standard ‘Over 25 and/or had children’ size works for you, but I can tell you now, that does not work for everyone. I use a small cup designed for virgin teenage menstruators but I’m 33 and have had two children. So unless the person we are giving a free cup to is fully aware of their flow volume, where their cervix sits when they have their period and what firmness their body prefers, then I think giving cups to these people is almost pointless. Not only are we going to make people feel like they have failed (on top of struggling with poverty, nice…), but we will also make them feel like they can’t ask for any more assistance with their period, because there is supposedly no reason they need tampons or disposable pads anymore.

So my take home message is this: menstrual cups are a very valid, environmentally and economically savvy solution to menstrual management. But they are also something that aren’t for everyone. We need to be very careful about where we place our enthusiasm for this amazing little product, and I suggest placing it on poor people can lead to some pretty harmful behaviour. If you are part of a programme that is about supporting menstruators deal with their flow on limited means then I urge you to have a good hard think about how much actual choice you’re giving people. Is a cup the only option you’re offering? If so, are you providing a full education programme and ongoing support? Are you throwing out facts about how harmful disposable products are as a means to guilt people into choosing a cup? Only you will know the answers to these questions, and if you are confident in what you do then none of what I say should upset you. But if any of this rings true to you, I suggest it’s time to re-evaluate the way you’re helping people. Because their choice should always come before our own values. Always.

For more information on why Go With the Flow Hawke’s Bay offers single-use sanitary products, click here.


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