Sunday, May 24, 2015

Dear Grace Quek aka Annabel Chong

Dear Grace,

I recently watched a movie about you. You know the one I’m talking about. Sex: The Annabel Chong Story. I was moved by you. My heart broke for you, but not in the way that it did for many others. My heart broke because your suffering seemed to stem from the shame and disgust heaped on you by people you love, the industry professionals who should have backed you up, and society at large.

My original intent was to write a movie review. Yeah, I know. That documentary has been reviewed to death. It is approaching its twenty year anniversary in just a few short years after all. Well, that’s why I decided to say fuck it and write you a letter instead. I write to you as “Grace Quek” because that is who you are. In actuality, though, I’m writing to the part of you that is “Annabel Chong.”

I read that you let go of Annabel about a decade or so ago. It’s easy to understand why you would let her go. Annabel Chong has become one of the great mythical figures of all time. She is more than one person. For this, you are an artist. You created a figure that shall endure in the popular mind for centuries. You created for yourself a place of notoriety befitting that of the woman you sought to emulate: Messalina. It’s unfortunate that you had to go out in a similar fashion, killing Annabel off no matter how metaphorically.

The woman I saw in Sex: The Annabel Chong Story was a woman who needed one person to love her completely, to support her as a person in what she was doing. There was Annabel Chong, the woman attempting to re-create herself in California, a woman going against the patriarchy only to discover first hand how deeply it ran. A woman cutting herself because she was torn between worlds. A woman who should have had a lover, a partner, someone to remind her daily, hourly, how amazing and loved she is.

Yes, you might claim that Annabel was a persona. But I’ve seen the footage, Grace, I’ve seen the footage. Annabel was not a persona. Annabel was your alias, your nom de porn. Except for the cheesy lines you read, you, Annabel were the real deal. Every sound you made was genuine, most all the cums authentic. Annabel was the name you used when you fucked. She was a part of you. Do you ever miss Annabel, Grace?

I read that you are\were diving into the web app developer pool. Very smart move. You can work from home making some pretty decent spread, especially if you stay current and land some decent clients. Are you doing most of your work from home? I can see why working from home is appealing. I did it for many years. One of the upsides was also one of the downsides: I didn’t have to deal with people. I could hide away from the world. Is that part of the appeal for you, Grace? I get it, really I do. I just hope it’s not why. I hope you’re happy and not hiding.

What you did during that ten hours does define you to most people. But you know what? As long as you don’t allow it to define you, that’s what matters. Be bold and own what you did, unashamed and unabashed. Expect that most people will treat you with disgust. But when it makes you sad and feel like you’re less, turn it around and into frustration or anger that the patriarchal attitudes toward sex are still so rampant.

You were the original, Grace. You suggested this first record-setting number. Did you set the attempted number at 300 in order to set a record? From what I’ve read and watched in your interviews, I don’t think so. You just picked an outrageously high number to aim for in your performance art piece meant to highlight the double standards of the patriarchy, you stud you.

 Yes, 251 seems tame when compared to the record of 919 set by Lisa Sparxxx. But you know what makes Lisa’s number so stellar? She’s like you. She wanted to do it. She wanted as much dick as possible. In that way, I like to imagine things came full circle. So many of those who broke your record did it to beat the one who came before, all starting with Jasmin St Claire. You can see that in their performances, too.

On some board, one of the praises as well as complaints about your original record is that you look like you’re really being gangbanged, passed around for men’s use as cameras roll instead of being choreographed to the extent of all those that followed. That’s one of the reasons I loved yours best. Only Lisa’s comes in next. I hinted no nastiness toward the participants from you or Lisa like I did with the others.

And unlike with you, Lisa mostly took on only one at a time, a train more than a gangbang, and as far as I can tell, almost exclusively in the puss except for those she sucked. You were into that dick in everyone of your holes to the end and my guess is that you would have exceeded your 300 mark had you been allowed to say fuck it to the cut and keep going. Good thing you had people there to make sure you did the sensible thing.

When your 251 was done, I got the feeling that you could have kept getting fucked for days, that you weren’t even close to ready for it to be over. Sure, you looked worked and worn, but your entire groin was pulsing, aching for it to keep going.

In the film, I saw you suffer for your art. I saw a woman who wanted people to be proud of what she accomplished. Grace, I am proud of what you accomplished.

I am also proud of how you handled what to others would have been the worst part about the movie: not getting paid. I know it has to actually hurt that you made not one penny from the movie that made you a legend. But you’re strong because you know how to shift your perspective. I think it is true, that you would have done it anyway, for free, had there been a movie or not, just to make the political and artistic statement that you were making. That statement only endeared me to you even further.

Let me get to the point of this letter, Grace. I saw in you, a lonely woman. You were so alone in the world despite your friend Alan. You needed a permanent life partner, someone who accepted you as you were, as you are. Someone to hold you tight and tell you what an amazing person you are. Someone who loves you deeply because you are free to be promiscuous. Someone who encourages you to always embrace that side of you. I’m sorry, Grace, that I wasn’t there for you when you needed someone like that during that period of your life. It is my sincerest wish that you have found the anonymity and love that you so richly deserve.

An Adoring Fan

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