One expert talking head argues overdramatically that being an adult star cuts you off from all personal ties. Given the way many of the ex-stars talk about their families and spouses and kids, he's obviously making a gross generalization. But at the same time, it's clear that if you're a former adult performer a lot of people are going to judge you—and you can see how, living with that, having Mensa declare you worthy might pack a certain punch.

So it is possible to watch After Porn Ends and come away with the impression that being in porn is a traumatic psychic and social wound that will never heal. But I don't think that that's exactly a fair conclusion. Carrera herself says she has no regrets about doing porn, and talks emotionally about the outpouring of donations and support she received from fans after her husband was killed in a car accident just before the birth of their second child. Porn in this case didn't isolate her; quite the contrary. And even the Mensa thing—yes it strikes me as pitiful, but is it really any more ridiculous than me looking at my blog's statcounter? Everybody needs reassurance, not just porn stars.

Which is not to deny the particular awfulness or difficulties of porn. Asia Carrera talks about enjoying the chance to have sex with some good-looking guy and get paid for it, but Shelley Luben (now an anti-porn crusader) clearly experienced many of her scenes as rapes. Even Tiffany Millions, who is not especially negative about her time in the industry, describes the work in unintentionally disturbing terms. She says that during sex she would often feel like she was outside of herself looking down: a textbook description of dissociation from trauma.

Millions originally got into the porn industry because of her daughter; as a single mom, she had a choice between spending all her time working a minimum-wage gig—or being a porn star for a few hours a week, making more money, and spending most of her days with her kid. She chose the obvious option, treated it like a day job—no parties, no drugs, no alcohol—and quit when she inherited some money and didn't have to do it anymore. These days she has a great relationship with her husband and daughter (whose almost tearful "you're my hero mom" would make a stone verklempt) and works, quite happily, as a bounty hunter.

I say she works "quite happily," and she does in fact seem to like her job. But there are some downsides. The one anecdote she relates is about repossessing some old lady's car because her son was a deadbeat. She's philosophical about it, but obviously found it quite unpleasant, and who wouldn't?

Most jobs have some unpleasantness of course—and blue collar jobs have more unpleasantness than most. Millions's experience does make you wonder whether porn is truly, exceptionally horrible, or whether it's just a particularly visible examplar. Minimum-wage service jobs, or factory work, or police work, or military service—those things don't involve having sex onscreen, obviously, but they're all arguably degrading, depressing, and potentially dangerous or traumatizing. For that matter, I have friends who are teachers in the public school system, and they are often treated terribly by administrators, parents, kids—everybody basically. Many of them have issues with depression and something that sounds a lot like post-traumatic stress.