Anora’s Oscar buzz shines a spotlight on sex work. But how real is it for Singapore’s sex workers?

Whether it’s the ’90s Romcom classic Pretty Woman or the fairytale Cinderella, the story goes like this: A girl meets a boy (who is sometimes a prince). He rescues her from an impoverished situation, they fall in love despite their contrasting backgrounds, and they live happily ever after.

Except – spoiler alert – in the 2025 Academy Awards-nominated film Anora, where an exotic dancer marries the son of a Russian oligarch, this doesn’t happen… and the power imbalance between the titular characters eventually implodes.

The detailed depiction of the sex trade received mostly positive reviews from sex workers interviewed by international media, who highlighted the realism of the reel-life scenes in the strip clubs. But how relatable is it for sex workers in Singapore?

“I’ve never been a stripper, so I can’t say if the work she did was accurate. But the way she was treated – definitely. Especially the part with the son’s parents, where his mum was hurling insults at her, calling her a ‘prostitute.’

“[Anora’s] reaction [to the insult] was completely valid. I mean, it’s horrible, you know? And they were speaking about her as if she wasn’t even there, as if she wasn’t human,” shares Lynn*, a former sex worker.

Society is inherently conservative, especially in multiracial Singapore, says Elicia, the online outreach coordinator at Project X, Singapore’s only non-profit supporting sex workers – which is why they face significant stigma.

“Even clients themselves don’t have very nice views about sex workers; they find it shameful to go and meet them,” she says.

She adds that media portrayals of the trade are often misrepresented.

Nor, Project X’s programmes manager cites examples of news reports about crime or vice raids, where the language used to describe sex workers often becomes closely associated with the trade and industry.

“For example, phrases like ‘scantily clad women.’ To some people, it may seem neutral and factual – like, this is simply how they were dressed – but there’s a moral implication in such wording, and it sensationalises the profession when it’s merely an expectation of the job,” says Nor, who identifies as they/them.

However, there has been some progress recently. Nor shares that in recent times, the mainstream media has been making an effort to highlight crimes and violence against sex workers.

“When these reports come up, Project X is often asked for our thoughts, or we are highlighted as an organisation that people can turn to for help. It helps, at least a little, to raise awareness and ensure that those in need know they can reach out to us,” they say.

Dealing with exploitation and abusive clients

In Anora, actor Mikey Madison’s character is an exotic dancer who provides sex services upon request. She is portrayed as a free agent without a pimp, and the reason she entered sex work is never fully explored.

For many full-time sex workers, however, the situation isn’t as convenient. Exploitation often happens with foreign workers, who are promised well-paying jobs by agents who bring women into Singapore under false pretences, but end up being forced into sex work. 

“They can’t go home, and they don’t know anyone here. They’re stuck, and the only people they can trust are the ones exploiting them. On top of that, there’s abuse from clients, mistreatment, and ongoing cases of people not paying. Many sex workers don’t report these incidents because they fear it’ll backfire on them,” shares Nayla, Project X’s programmes executive and a former sex worker.

Nor adds that some of these women have an inkling that they might have to engage in some form of sexual labour. However, because Singapore has a strong currency, they are willing to do the work.

“Where they get exploited is in the amount of fees they have to pay to their agents. For some people, they’re willing to take the risk because they feel they’d be able to earn back the money. But a lot of times, that may not necessarily be the case. And because of the raids that keep happening, these plans get shut down,” they say.

Sex workers are also vulnerable to predatory behaviour by so-called clients seeking their services, with several such cases reported in local media in recent years.

In one case in 2019, forklift driver Chew Teng Wee was sentenced to 14 years in jail and 24 strokes of the cane for raping a Vietnamese performer he met at a KTV club.

His modus operandi: He approached the freelance sex worker for sex at his home for $200 but claimed he had no money with him and would pay her later. When she refused, he threatened her with a knife and raped her.

“I think the main issue [sex workers face] is safety. We don’t know who the client is. We don’t know what’s going to happen – things might go wrong anytime. You always have to be prepared,” says Nayla.

Why women enter sex work

With the risks that come with sex work, why not consider another job?

“Many of us join sex work for many different reasons. There is a small minority who get sex trafficked – that’s a different story,” says Lynn. “Those of us who do it willingly, it’s usually for money or the freedom of having control over our time and working conditions.”

She explains that many who enter sex work come from difficult backgrounds or situations. They might be single mothers struggling to feed their families or, in her case, a daughter who needed to pay for her parent’s medical bills.

“I had to quit my job and go into sex work because my dad had depression and was in debt. Plus, a $2,000 [per month] salary wasn’t going to help. Where else can you find a job that pays you a few hundred dollars in an hour? You just can’t make that kind of money in a regular job, right?”

For Nayla, a trans woman, discrimination plays a significant role in why individuals in her community turn to sex work.

“Many in the trans community face discrimination, especially those who are pre-op. We’re considered aliens in normal society, particularly in the workforce. These individuals have nowhere to turn. They are not accepted in regular employment, and many have little formal education. With all this stigma, they tend to band together and find ways to survive on their own. They want to be their own boss.

“So, with all these flexibilities – even though they know the safety risks involved – they have no choice but to turn to this in the name of survival,” she says.

Banking on trust and boundaries

One scene that struck a chord with Nayla was when Ivan, the spoiled son of a Russian oligarch and a client of Anora’s, would often book her for long periods, not allowing her to go home or work at the strip club.

“There was a time when, you know, this was all familiar to us because, in the industry, long-term bookings are common. That’s how it’s somewhat similar to what the sex industry is about. What the client wants is ultimately up to an individual’s agreement,” she shares.

During the fundraising screening of Anora at the Projector last December, the concept of “buying in” from the provider’s side and boundary-setting were topics that were discussed during the post-movie panel discussion. 

“The movie did a good job of portraying how clients may not necessarily respect the boundaries that a sex worker or service provider has set for themselves,” says Nor.

Lynn agrees, noting that many clients she’s encountered “think that just because they pay us money, they can do whatever they want.”

“With any other service, there are always do’s and don’ts. You don’t expect people to comply just because you paid them. But for some reason, they can’t seem to grasp that sex workers have boundaries too. If another service provider says, ‘Oh, I don’t do this,’ people accept it. But with sex workers, they keep trying to push those boundaries.”

Building trust is a major challenge for Project X when reaching out to sex workers on the streets. Some are wary, suspecting volunteers might be undercover police officers, while others don’t see themselves as sex workers at all.

“As an organisation, one of the biggest challenges we face is reaching out to sex workers,” says Elicia. “A lot of people don’t even see themselves as sex workers, right? Especially KTV girls – they might just be meeting customers after work to earn some extra cash, but they don’t think of it as sex work. So they don’t think they need us, you know?”

To address this, Project X collaborates with former and current sex workers, known as “peer educators,” to support the community. Nor explains that they help identify different communities across Singapore, enabling the organisation to carry out its outreach programmes.

“Sexual health outreach is our primary programme, and it’s the best way for us to understand their concerns – to find out if there have been raids, and whether customers are treating them well. When we reach out to free-standing foreign sex workers on the streets, we can ask, ‘How did you get here? How much did you have to pay in fees?’” 

Other initiatives by Project X include a 2023 writing workshop that brought together 16 participants from the sex trade. Eight of them later contributed to The Missing Anthology, Project X’s first anthology, set for release on 9 March.

“Over the past three years, we’ve been collecting stories. Now, the anthology features 15 pieces from 15 contributors, where sex workers share not just stories about sex work but also about growing up in the ’80s, what life was like, and how sex work became part of their journey,” says Nor.

It’s a move toward educating the public about the lives of sex workers beyond the crime reports they typically read in the news.

“Singaporeans love stories about sex work. The problem is that their sources have been feeding them a specific narrative – one that doesn’t allow them to see sex workers as human, like you and me. Because of that, the dominance of such narratives detracts from the fact that sex work is just a profession.

“By having sex workers tell their own stories, we, as an organisation, are constantly collaborating and providing platforms for them. That’s what we can do. What the general public needs to do is open their eyes and actually listen. 

“There are people courageous enough to share their stories – creating space for a more compassionate and empathetic society is the first step,” adds Nor.

*Name has been changed.

Join Project X on 9 March at 4pm for the launch of The Missing Anthology at Book Bar, 57 Duxton Road. More information about Project X here.