Flipping through the opening pages of The Missing Anthology, readers quickly glimpse that this anthology is unlike what they’d seen before. For one, it is written by people who are actually a part of the stories they pen.
Project X, a non-profit organisation in Singapore dedicated to providing social, emotional, and health services to people in the sex industry, presents an unprecedented effort to spotlight the marginalised community of sex workers in Singapore. In partnership with Faction Press, an independent micro-press based in Singapore, The Missing Anthology features raw pieces of poetry, short prose and tender letters to selves from 15 bold new voices.
In mainstream media, sex workers are often portrayed as either victims forced to be in their line of work or fallen women needing to be rescued. These sensationalised and generalising depictions perpetuate stereotypes that affect the community as a whole, depriving them of much-needed and rightful resources and support.
The Missing Anthology seeks to shatter one-dimensional assumptions society has imposed on the sex work community, unveiling rich intricacies of individuals who are often seen as nothing more than their profession. In tandem with the book’s launch, its co-editors and contributors share with Vogue Singapore the behind-the-scenes of how the anthology came to fruition and what it means to have sex workers tell their own stories for once.
“The truest experts of any particular issue are people with lived experiences of it.”
Sex work has been stigmatised and marginalised throughout history. Stereotypes persist “due to the misconception that no one could actively choose to work in ‘low-skilled’, ‘immoral’ or ‘high risk’ jobs like sex work,” explains Raksha Mahtani, co-editor of The Missing Anthology and vice-president of Project X.
“But these ideas privilege masculinist notions of work as nine to six full-time office jobs, rather than flexible work that involve skills on relationship building, anticipating needs, emotional care and companionship,” they add. Furthermore, when dehumanising portrayals are perpetuated over time, what entails are ingrained stereotypes and even internalised beliefs within the community itself.
Power comes from being heard. And that is exactly what The Missing Anthology has provided: a platform for sex workers to reclaim their voices. Mahtani notes, “the truest experts of any particular issue are people with lived experiences of it. No exhaustive literature review is going to be able to fully understand how inequalities shape people’s lives.”
Writing is a safe space, something that’s difficult to come by for people in the sex industry. The writing in The Missing Anthology is complex, experimental and exceptional in its form and content. It’s not only vulnerable and insightful, but holds real weight as each and every word is from someone who actually has a stake in what they are penning onto paper.
Readers may be surprised that many contributors had been avid writers prior to working on this anthology, using the art form as a creative and journalistic outlet. “I find that writing without expectations of perfection is such an incredible tool, and I almost always feel better after putting words on paper,” says Sadie, whose vivid poem ‘Second-Hand Hearts’ details the reality of her job’s day-to-day.
For Mai, who grew up drawing comics and slowly progressed to writing as they got older, writing offers a mode of catharsis. Their prose ‘Send Me Your Blacklisted Clients for Retribution’ details a graphic revenge fantasy against exploitative clients, allowing them to process difficult experiences and share reflections with an audience.
Sherry Sherqueshaa, whose personal essay ‘Sex work leads me to…’ depicts her experience as a Malay-Muslim transgender woman, muses: “What I enjoy most about writing is how I am able to touch the lives of complete strangers.” After experiencing changes over the years first-hand, she wishes to tell younger people in the sex industry, as well as those in the LGBTQ+ community: “Just know that change is possible at any point in time.”
While some stigmas have diminished and support is gradually growing, there is still much to be desired. Destigmatisation driven by projects like this title will go a long way, not only to reshape the idea of who a sex worker can be, but also to improve access to support and resources for marginalised groups.
“Sex workers, just like anybody else, are multifaceted people doing multifaceted jobs.”
A common sentiment rings through among the contributors. “Sex workers, just like anybody else, are multifaceted people doing multifaceted jobs. Stop putting sex workers into boxes to fit a narrative, and just see us for who we are—complicated humans, just like you,” Sadie says, when asked what she’d like people to take away from her writing.
“Sex work taught me how to be an entrepreneur—how to create a sustainable system and how to be disciplined,” Kate L points out. Just like any other job, growth and empowerment lie in sex work and extend toward a multitude of areas—be it interpersonal relationships or professional domains.
As Vanessa Ho, co-editor of The Missing Anthology and executive director of Project X, says: “There is so much talent. Sex work is truly just one part of a person’s being. They are also poets, authors, artists with big hopes and dreams.” “No anthology is truly complete,” Mahtani insightfully adds on. “These wonderful entries offer a small glimpse and I hope the anthology encourages people to cultivate a deeper and more nuanced understanding about the industry.”
The Missing Anthology is now available at Kinokuniya, Book Bar (Singapore), Wormhole, and Amazon.
