Armie Hammer is back in front of cameras, weathered, bearded, and looking nothing like the polished leading man we used to know. Five years after the allegations that detonated his career, the photos went viral this week. Everyone has a hot take. The villain returns. The cannibal cosplay. The “how dare he show his face.”...

Editor’s note, June 7, 8 am ET: We’re bringing you some of our best-loved Your Mileage May Vary columns while Sigal Samuel is on parental leave. The one below originally published on November 3, 2024.

This unconventional advice column offers you a unique framework for thinking through moral dilemmas. It’s based on value pluralism — the idea that each of us has multiple values that are equally valid but that often conflict with each other. Stay tuned for more original Your Mileage May Vary columns coming in June. In the meantime, submit your own question here.

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I’m at an age where I feel like I need to decide whether I want to have kids, but I’m very ambivalent about it and don’t know how to know whether I want them. I don’t dream of parenthood or filling my days with caregiving for a young child. But, does anyone?! That doesn’t seem like a good way to decide whether I truly want to be a parent. But then what is? The main place my mind goes is that I fear my life would be sad and depressing when my partner and I are 70 and childless. I like the thought of having well-adjusted adult children to spend time with when I’m old. That seems like a misguided and selfish reason to have kids. 

A better reason might be that I think my partner and I have good values, and I’d like to bring more people into the world who have those values, but that also seems selfish because there’s no guarantee that a child will embrace your values, and your duty as a parent is to let them flourish as whoever they want to be. I worry that I would be the kind of parent who struggles to support my kid if they rebel against everything I believe in. But I also feel like you just can’t know what you would be like in that situation until you’re in it. How do you decide that such a life-altering decision is right for you, let alone its ethical implications for a person who doesn’t exist yet? 

Dear Fencesitter,

Ah, parenthood ambivalence. So many of us can relate. And, like you, so many of us try to answer the question “Do I want to have kids?” by looking inward for the answer. We introspect, we ruminate, we dig through childhood traumas. We consider what makes us happy now in hopes of predicting whether kids would make us happier or more miserable later. We assume the answer is there within us, a buried treasure waiting to be unearthed.

That’s understandable: Most advice for people considering parenthood encourages us to do just that. Countless articles, books, and yes, advice columns are premised on the idea that the answer exists as a stable fact within us. So is the parenthood ambivalence coach Ann Davidman’s online class, the “Motherhood Clarity™ Course” which opens with a mantra: “The answers will come because they never left … It’s all within me.”  

But there are a few problems with that approach. For one, you could spend your entire adult life auditing your soul for the answer and still end up looking like the shrug emoji. That’s because introspection is an unbounded search process: You’ve got no way to know when you’ve searched enough. 

Another problem is that this approach centers you and your desires too much. As you pointed out, bringing a kid into the world can’t only be about its costs and benefits for you.

Finally, you’re just not well-positioned to predict whether kids will make you happier or more miserable! As the philosopher L.A. Paul notes, you can’t quite know what it’ll be like to have a kid until you have one, and besides, the “you” might become transformed in the process, so that the things that make you happy now are not the same as the things that will make you happy as a parent.

So, what I suggest is a radically different approach: If you want to arrive at a decision, you have to go beyond your own interiority. You have to turn your gaze outward and ask yourself: What is it that you find awesome, thrilling, and intrinsically valuable about being in the world? 

I’m not asking because I think the key is deciding which values you want to transmit to your kid. Like you said, there’s no guarantee that your kid will embrace your values. Instead, I’m asking because this is the basis on which you can make a choice — not “find the answer” but make a choice — about whether to have kids.

Up until now, you’ve been thinking of the kids question as an epistemic one — you say you “don’t know how to know” — but I would think of it as an existential one instead. The existentialist philosophers argued that life doesn’t come with predefined meaning or fixed answers. Instead, each human has to choose how to create their own meaning. As the Spanish existentialist Jose Ortega y Gasset put it, the central task of being human is “autofabrication,” which literally means self-making. You come up with your own answer, and in so doing, you make yourself. 

A decade ago, just for fun, my friend Emily sat me down in a park and had me do an exercise that would turn out to be extremely impactful: It was, believe it or not, an online quiz. It listed dozens and dozens of different values — friendship, creativity, growth, and so on — and instructed me to select my top 10. Then it made me narrow it down to my top five. I found that brutally hard, but it was revealing. My number one value turned out to be what the quiz called, somewhat idiosyncratically, “delight of being, joy.”    

I return to that again and again (my mind preserves the punctuation, so I regularly find myself talking to people about “delight-of-being-comma-joy!”) when I have to make tough decisions. It captures a core fact about me: I love being alive in this world! Whenever I snorkel with impossibly colorful fish, or experience deep connection with another human being, or stare up at all the galaxies we’ve barely begun to understand, I feel so grateful that I get to participate in the grand mystery of being.

And that’s what made me decide I want to be a mom one day. Choosing to have a child feels like one of the biggest ways I can say YES to life, at a time when many doubt the worthiness of perpetuating human life on this planet. It’s a way to affirm that being alive in this world is a gift, one I want to pass along to others. 

So allow me to be your Emily. Let me present you with an inventory of values (one of many similar inventories available online) and urge you to select your top five. Then ask yourself: Would having a kid be a good way to enact my values — or is there another way to enact my values that feels more compelling to me? Which path is the best fit for you personally, given your specific talents and your physical and psychological needs?

This depends a lot on the individual. Imagine three women who all rank “personal growth” as their top value. They might still arrive at totally different conclusions about kids. For one woman, that value may feel like a great reason to have a kid, because she believes childrearing will help her grow as a person and that she’ll get to guide a new person in their development. The second woman might say her primary mode of growth is art-making, so she wants to focus on that while being an active auntie to her friends’ kids on the side. A third woman might feel that, for her, the most promising path is to become a nun. All three are completely valid!  

A lot of people struggling with parenthood ambivalence say they’re scared that if they don’t have a kid, they’ll miss out on something sui generis — a completely unique experience, a sort of love to which nothing else compares. It sounds like this FOMO is playing a role for you, too; you mentioned that you fear your life would be sad and depressing when you and your partner are 70 and childless. 

But there are plenty of parents who will tell you that, while they adore their kids, the kid-parent relationship is not magically more meaningful than anything else in their life. In the excellent new book What Are Children For? by Anastasia Berg and Rachel Wiseman, the former writes: 

While the relationship between a parent and child is doubtless unique, what if I told you that, phenomenologically speaking, it is not really grand and tremendous? That it’s not even particularly extraordinary? … To love your child isn’t like nothing you’ve ever known. It isn’t unimaginable. If you have known love, you have also known it, or something like it … What is so special about this love isn’t how exotic, mysterious, or astounding it is but how simple and familiar.

So, if you just like the thought of having children because you want lovely people to spend time with when you’re old, try first experimenting with other ways to get that same need met. You might find that it’s not something that only a child can provide. As the author (and my friend) Rhaina Cohen documents beautifully in The Other Significant Others, some people find that deep friendships meet their need for connection perfectly well, with no child-shaped hole or partner-shaped hole left over. 

But even if you believe having a child is a sui generis experience, the point I would make is: Other things are too! An artist might tell you there’s nothing that compares to the creative thrill of painting. Someone involved in political work may tell you there’s nothing quite like the feeling of fighting for justice and winning. Lots of things in the world are unique and incommensurably good. 

So don’t be pushed around by societal narratives of what the ultimate good looks like. Let your choice flow from your own sense of what’s most valuable about human life. Whereas what makes you feel happy or miserable can change a lot over time, core values are relatively stable, so they form a more enduring basis for making major decisions. Yes, it’s conceivable that even those values might shift a little over the decades, but making a choice that flows from your values means you will at least be confident that you had a very solid reason for doing what you did — no matter how you end up feeling about it in the future. 

And as for the future? You really can’t control it. So, your goal is not to control every possible outcome. Your goal is to live in line with your values.

Bonus: What I’m reading

• Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard, often called the “father of existentialism,” proposed the idea that life can only be understood backward, but it must be lived forward. This week’s question prompted me to revisit that idea. 

• As I wrote this column, I went back and reread a great New Yorker article by Joshua Rothman about how we make major decisions. It discusses philosopher Agnes Callard’s idea that “we ‘aspire’ to self-transformation by trying on the values that we hope one day to possess.” In other words, you don’t decide you want to be a parent — you decide you want to be the sort of person who’d want to be a parent, and lean into that. I found the idea interesting but too complicated by half: Why would I ground this decision in values I hope to one day possess instead of grounding it in the values I already hold dear?

• Lots of people bring up climate change as a reason not to have kids. I think that’s misguided. Having a kid is one of the things that can push you to take heroic action on climate change — so I was interested in this piece in Noema Magazine, which argues that we need to evoke heroism, not hope, with regard to the climate — and finds a prime example of that in … JRR Tolkien.  

The internet is full of ambitious people, particularly when it comes to home improvement. You will find people installing an entire kitchen themselves, buying and renovating an abandoned house, or even digging a series of tunnels under their home. And even renters are getting in on the DIY game.

Take Imani Keal: The Washington, DC-based influencer has transformed just about every corner of her apartment almost entirely by herself. “I have painted every room — I installed new peel and stick floor tiles in the kitchen; I did most of the light fixtures,” she told Vox. “For most of the things in here, if it is required to be built, I built it. I do everything.”

Some of those changes happened by necessity — like her kitchen cabinets. As she says, “There was a colony of mice living in the wall behind my kitchen. And because there was a little teeny tiny hole, they were able to come through there and play hopscotch in my kitchen and I wasn’t having that anymore.” She ended up renovating her entire kitchen.

For all of that work, though, Keal is still only renting her apartment. So how do you decide how much to invest in your living space? And when should you leave a home improvement project to the experts? We discuss that and more on this week’s episode of Explain It to Me, Vox’s weekly call-in podcast.

Below is an excerpt of my conversation with Keal, edited for length and clarity. You can listen to the full episode, on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts. If you’d like to submit a question, send an email to askvox@vox.com or call 1-800-618-8545.

How is your landlord cool with this?

Let me be very clear. They weren’t, but if there is a significant mice problem and you are not addressing it, we have to go forward. It became a situation where they said, “We’ll give you a credit to fix the problem and then you can fix it yourself.” And I said, fine. They rebuilt the floors and rebuilt the wall. Then I came in and purchased the cabinetry, painted it, purchased the fridge, put everything back on the wall, and made it look how it looks today.

You’ve invested a good amount of your own money into your apartment. How much?

Over three years — and a lot of this is stuff that I will take with me — maybe $30,000 or $35,000.

Some people are going to hear that and be shocked. What do you say to them about why you’re pouring so much investment into a thing you don’t own?

Number one, I live here and I think that I deserve to have a beautiful space to live in. I’m not going to sit in something that’s ugly just because other people would be upset about how I spend my money. 

Number two, I was able to turn this into a career. I have made significantly more money by doing all of these things than I have spent on the apartment. 

And number three, some people have hobbies where they will go out and tinker with a car. Some people want to go to a run club. Some people want to play pickleball. I want to learn how to use a circular saw and build furniture in my apartment. This is my hobby.

What’s the hardest task you’ve done?

Plumbing. To me, the potential for damage that can come from water is a lot greater than other things.Years ago, when I was doing a DIY project at my mother’s house, I accidentally turned the stop valve and the water just was shooting out. It was dripping down the chandelier in her living room and she had to replace all the hardwood floor.

How skilled were you when you first started doing DIY projects? Was this just something you always had in your skill bank?

No. In fact, it’s so funny. My sister was really known as the kid that would come and put an Ikea thing together. Then as I got older, I wanted a certain look and I could not find it. When the pandemic happened I was working at two different restaurants and I had a full-time job. I got laid off from my two restaurant jobs and then hours got cut for the main job that I was working. 

I went from being out a lot to being in the house, and there were so many things that I wanted that I couldn’t afford, that I couldn’t just go to the store to buy because nobody was open. Ace Hardware was an essential business, so I would spend a lot of time going to Ace Hardware because that was the only place you could go. 

You poured all this time and money into an apartment, but on the way out, you’re going to have to undo so much of it. How do you think about that? How does that feel?

It feels fine, because we all know people who get so excited about buying a house, then they buy the house and the house is hideous. They keep the same teeny tiny Ikea couch. They never get a bigger rug. They never move in. Even after spending all of this money, you are still not living in your home to the fullest so that you can make sure that your home will be nice for the person that you might sell it to in 25 years.

I have every intention of living the life that I was granted to the fullest. I’m going to do everything that I want, everything that is within my means and is possible for me to have a good life. And if that means that I have to spend a couple of days after five years of enjoying the same apartment, taking the wallpaper down, okay, sure. Whatever. 

A lot of things that I put up here can very easily be taken apart. I built this entertainment system, but I built it in five pieces that can easily be taken apart and walked out of this apartment and then moved into wherever I moved next.

Shakira finally said the quiet part out loud. “Life is a bitch.” That was her summary of what it felt like to live through Gerard Piqué‘s alleged affair with Clara Chía, the public unraveling, the move from Barcelona to Miami, the whole thing. And then she said something that stopped me. “I always thought that...