Chua Lam’s Views On The Sex Trade

Some of you who don’t read Chinese have asked me about what Chua Lam might have written about the sex trade. Here’s the honest truth: Chua Lam had never sat down to write a full manifesto or dedicated book chapter titled “Everything You Need to Know About Prostitution.” He’s not that kind of writer. His style has always been short, sharp columns in newspapers like Ming Pao, Oriental Daily and Apple Daily, plus essay collections on food, travel, men, women and life. The sex trade pops up in his work the same way good food or bad relationships do. It’s just as a part of the messy, practical reality of being human.

Culturally, this could have originated from a perfect storm: Teochew pragmatism (enjoy life, eat well, don’t waste time on nonsense), British colonial exposure in both Singapore and Hong Kong (more personal freedom, less religious guilt), the bold Hong Kong film industry he worked in for decades and the classic Chinese literati tradition of the romantic scholar who enjoys beauty, wine, food and women but with wisdom and elegance.

He has written (and spoken about the sex trade in ways that echo his columns) that the real sin isn’t the transaction itself. The real sin is the double standard, the hypocrisy and the pretense. Aren’t arranged marriages even bigger transactional events that result in long-term commitment and suffering? Society condemns the sex trade loudly while men and women openly participate in other forms of transactional relationships. Chua Lam calls bullshit on such respected performances.

One of the most quoted pieces of Cai Lan wisdom on this topic comes from his broader writing on men, relationships and male desire. He has argued that young men, especially virgins, should consider “practising” with sex workers before serious relationships or marriage.

He presented this not as moral encouragement to promote the sex trade, but as practical life advice; the same way he would tell someone to learn cooking before hosting a dinner party. In his world, sex is a necessary skill like any other. Practice makes perfect and slapping those who scream misogyny, he insisted that women should be given equal rights and freedom to explore their sexual selves.

This idea appears in his discussions of romance as a game or strategy that is redundant once the goal is met. He has written variations of “men who aren’t a little bad aren’t loved by women,” and that women in intimate moments often let “the ass decide the head.” The overall message in his columns: stop lying to yourself about how desire actually works.

The great Jin Yong once summed up Chua Lam’s’s broad knowledge in a famous line that included “wine, women, wealth and gambling” (酒色财气). Jin Yong noted that Chua Lam seemed to understand the entire spectrum of human experience, including the world of paid companionship. The compliment captures Chua Lam’s personae perfectly: he wrote about life as someone who had seen it all, not as a sheltered and deprived moralist.

Style and Absence of Moralising

What stands out most in Chua Lam’s actual writing is the lack of moralising. He doesn’t glorify the sex trade. He doesn’t romanticise the women involved. He also doesn’t condemn the men who pay. He simply observed human nature with the same clear-eyed honesty and objectivity he brought to food criticism or travel writing. The only thing he was against was monogamy.

His columns often read like a slightly world-weary but amused uncle explaining how things actually work, rather than how society pretends they work. That sarcastic tone toward hypocrisy is focused on hard truths. The voice is consistent whether he’s writing about a bowl of noodles or male-female dynamics.

The Bigger Picture in His Essays

Chua Lam’s views on the sex trade sit inside his larger philosophy about the bare truths about men and women. It all starts with desire. Then it becomes a game of attraction, enticement and negotiation. Life is short, so cut the poetry, simplify the romance and enjoy the relationship without all the crippling rules and drama.

Final Take

Chua Lam had never written a sociological study on the sex trade in his lifetime. Not erotic fiction. Not a political call for legalisation or abolition of the industry. Instead, scattered through his columns and essays on men, women and life, you’ll find a clear, consistent thread: treat it as a straightforward human transaction, be honest about needs and skills and stop pretending the alternatives are more virtuous.

As a Singaporean writer who shares his birthplace and not particularly popular among the aunties, I find Chua Lam’s approach refreshing precisely because it refused to perform to morality. He wrote like someone who has lived, observed and decided that clarity beats sanctimony every time.