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Shemale Sex Workers in Kuala Lumpur Malaysia

Enclave of transsexuals in KL

Enclave of transsexuals in KL

The Haji Taib enclave is bounded by Sri Amar Road, Raja Laut Road, Chow Kit Lane and Tuanku Abdul Rahman Road in Kuala Lumpur. Inside this rectangular area, where Lorong Haji Taib 1 and Lorong Haji Taib 2 are parallel, wholesalers and retailers of toys, fruits, luggage, handbags and industrial equipment occupy the shophouses. When these traders close in the evening, another kind of business unfolds. From the first and upper floors of the shophouses where they stay, transsexuals (often referred to as ‘pondan’ or ‘mak nyah’ in Malay language) come down to solicit clients for sexual services.

I start my tour at 11 pm, after parking my car in the basement of Plaza Hotel on Raja Laut Road. Crossing Sri Amar Road, I proceed to Lorong Haji Taib 2 and stroll along the covered pedestrian walkway of shophouse blocks. Several shemales are huddled in sororities outside staircase entrances. As I pass a lone transsexual, she keeps observing me, hoping for a cue. But her masculinity – broad shoulders, angular jawline and small buttocks – nauseates me and I look straight ahead.

Further ahead stand a pair of feminine-looking shemales. When I glance at them, the first girl asks me in Malay, ‘Want to play with me? My room’s just upstairs.’ Her face is caked with thick makeup and red lipstick and her husky voice jolts me. She is dressed in a t-shirt and jeans and strappy sandals.

‘How much?’ I ask, looking at the Adam’s apple in her throat.

‘Fifty.’ She stands almost five feet, six inches tall, and long hair that ends in waves flows down her shoulders.


An interview for a book about the escort

An interview for a book about the escort

‘Can I interview you?’ My voice is solemn, and so is my expression.

‘Interview? For what? You’re from a surat akhbar (newspaper)?’

‘I’m writing a book. I’ll pay you thirty.’ A speeding motorcycle leaves a trail of white exhaust that tingles my nostrils and I wave the air a few times with one hand. ‘I can treat you eat mee rebus (noodles) at the Mamak hawker stall.’

‘Thank you, but I don’t want. I don’t like to talk about my personal life. Can you ask the other girls.’

I focus my attention on her companion, who has a broad forehead, a hook nose and bee-stung lips. ‘What about you? Get thirty ringgit for telling me your story?’

‘Cerita (story) about what? What you want to know?’ Her voice is delicate, as if acid has eroded her voice chords.

‘Your work here, walking the streets.’

‘Hmm, okay, you pay first.’ She stretches out her hand. ‘No photographs. I’ll spend only thirty minutes with you.’

I give her the payment. Her finger nails are long and varnished. She keeps the money in her handbag, and slings it over her shoulder.

‘Allow me to go upstairs and kencing (pee) first.’ Her companion moves aside from the stairway.

‘I need to pee too. Can I borrow your toilet?’

‘Boleh (Can).’ She mounts the stairs and I follow behind, her bottom waggling just a foot higher from my line of sight.

‘What’s your name?’ My voice echoes in the narrow stairway.

She turns around to answer me. ‘Please call me Sophia.’ Her hair – long, sleek and straight, with lustrous looks – sways from side to side.

‘Is this your working place and residence?’

‘Yes.’ Entering the flat, she walks down a corridor to the back and goes to the lavatory. From within comes the sound of water gargling several seconds later as the toilet bowl is flushed. She reappears and I enter, and a whiff of ammonia envelops me.

I stand up to pee, and leave the door ajar, looking warily over my shoulder. ‘How much’s the rental here?’ Sophia is fingering the hem of her miniskirt.

‘Seven hundred. I share this place with my friend, the one you were talking to.’


Room not for the client

Room not for the client

I exit the toilet and ask, ‘Can you show me your room?’

She unlocks and opens the door of one room, giving me a view inside. ‘If you can, please recommend a few clients to me. Tell them my room’s very clean. And I’m very friendly.’

Hot stuffy air seeps from the room. A queen-sized mattress without any bedsheet is lying on the linoleum floor. ‘I spread towels on the mattress when servicing clients, I use bedsheet only when I sleep.’ One wall is plastered with posters of local male pop singers, and from a hanger dangle red, black, and blue G-strings and a lacy brassiere. A plywood closet, a chair, a dressing table crammed with makeup products, and a 12-inch TV atop a metal stand make up the furnishings. Several toilet-paper rolls are stacked atop the closet.

We climb down the stairs and proceed to a roadside hawker stall with tables in a covered five-foot way. She sits straight, crosses her legs and places her handbag on her lap. Two other tables are taken up by shemales.

‘Tell me about your childhood,’ I say. To the Mamak waiter I say, ‘Mee rebus and teh tarik.’

‘Mee rebus and Pepsi,’ she orders. With her hands clasped together, she rests her elbows on the table. ‘I’m from Raub but I’ve stayed in Singapore and Penang before. My childhood’s the same as other mak nyah. Cerita lama lah (Old story). I was interested in make-up, panties, brassieres, corsets, stockings and dolls even at an early age. My elder sister’s clothes fascinated me and, when she was not around, I often rummaged through her wardrobe to try on her dresses. One day, my father caught me, and he thrashed me. He said if I ever did such a thing again, he would disown me. At that time, I didn’t know how to explain my feelings to him or my family.


Karaoke bar in Penang

Karaoke bar in Penang

‘When I was around eighteen, I went with my best friend to watch a movie. He was very handsome. In the cinema, I don’t know why but I kissed him on the cheek. He backed away and scolded me for doing what he called a crazy thing. The kiss felt good to me. Deep in my heart, I had crossed a bridge. I knew I could never turn back again. After that incident, however, I became depressed and even contemplated suicide. During those sad moments, I would fondle my chest and long for women’s breasts. I would also grab my genitals roughly and wish I didn’t have them. I used to think of ways to rip it off. Like wrapping one end of a chain around it, the other end to a moving motorcycle or car.’ She laughs, revealing big teeth. ‘The idea was crazy of course, and I was too scared to do it. Then I researched sex-change operations on the Internet. I also chatted online with a few mak nyah and they helped me through that difficult period. Later, I moved out of my parents’ home and worked in Singapore. Within three years, I’d saved enough for a sex-change operation in Bangkok. Life took on a new beginning for me.’

An Indian boy brings a battered metal tray containing our food and drinks, setting them in front of us. Sophia and I start to spear strands of boiled, yellow noodles to our mouths. Onlookers and flesh-hunters are wandering past, gawking at us and ogling the sex workers standing in the walkways.

Sophia lifts a finger to wipe chili sauce from the corner of her mouth. ‘Then, I had a Chinese boyfriend. He was a shipping executive. We met when I was working in a karaoke bar in Penang, and he was a regular customer. He didn’t know my past, and assumed I was a natural girl. He booked me frequently at the KTV, and later he asked me out. I was twenty-three and he was thirty.


Shemale Transsexual Sex Workers in Kuala Lumpur Malaysia
Shemale Transsexual Sex Workers in Kuala Lumpur Malaysia
Shemale Transsexual Sex Workers in Kuala Lumpur Malaysia
Shemale Transsexual Sex Workers in Kuala Lumpur Malaysia


As I pass a lone transsexual, she keeps observing me, hoping for a cue. But her masculinity – broad shoulders, angular jawline and small buttocks – nauseates me and I look straight ahead.


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