I’m Kayla, and I review stuff I actually use. Lately, I’ve been “using” two mindsets. One says truth and right depend on where you stand (that’s the relativist voice). The other says some things are true no matter what (that’s the objectivist voice). I tried both, side by side, like two tools in a small kitchen. And yes, I’ve got stories.
If you want the unabridged play-by-play, I logged that journey in a longer piece right here.
Wait—what are these, in plain talk?
- Relativist: “It depends.” What’s right can shift with culture, context, and goals. (For a succinct academic overview, see moral relativism.)
- Objectivist: “Some things are just true.” Two plus two. Don’t cheat. Wear your seatbelt. (Philosophers often call this stance moral universalism.)
Those quick-hit definitions barely scratch the surface—if you’d like a friendlier deep dive into what “Objectivist” even means, I unpack it in this explainer.
That’s the gist. Not fancy. But the way they play out can get messy. Let me explain.
A Week Wearing the Relativist Hat
I put on my “it depends” hat and took it to real life. It felt soft, friendly, and a little slippery.
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Potluck night: My neighbor brought a fish dish with strong spice. The room split. Some loved it; some gagged. Old me might say, “That smell is bad.” Relativist me said, “In their kitchen, that smell means love.” We opened a window, kept the dish, and learned how they cook back home. It turned a fuss into talk. And it tasted great with rice.
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Slack at work: We were picking a color for a local ad. I design part-time. Our U.S. team liked red. The team in Jakarta said red felt rude for that ad. I didn’t fight it. I asked why. They explained. We chose teal. Click-throughs went up. Numbers don’t lie, but people explain them.
The whole cost-benefit balancing act here reminded me of my hands-on month with utilitarian ethics—if that sparks your nerdy side, the story is right here.
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Shoes by the door: My aunt hates shoes indoors. A friend didn’t know. I didn’t scold. I said, “Her house, her rule.” He laughed and made a joke about sock holes. We all moved on.
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Parenting moment: My kid wanted to say “sir” to his teacher. The teacher said, “Please just use my name.” He was confused. We talked. In our family, “sir” feels polite. In that class, it felt stiff. He adjusted. He still kept the respect. Different path, same goal.
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Nude beaches and phone galleries: Attitudes around sharing skin-level photos swing wildly from “totally normal” in some circles to “absolutely no” in others. My friend Kira and her husband, for instance, post playful, body-positive pics that would raise eyebrows at my PTA. You can glimpse their easy-going approach at this candid gallery—it’s explicit, so click only if you’re comfortable with adult content, but it illustrates how one consenting couple frames nudity as trust rather than taboo. For another real-world snapshot, if you’ve ever wondered how a Midwestern city handles open-minded adult encounters, check out AdultLook in Racine—it walks you through local etiquette, safety pointers, and what to expect if you’re exploring that scene, giving you a grounded example of how place-specific values color the same topic.
Relativism helped me listen. It slowed my snap judgments. It felt kind. But then it hit a wall.
Where Relativism Got Mushy
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Safety lines: I carpool. A parent said they don’t buckle on short trips. “In our family, it’s fine,” they said. No. This is where I stop. I can respect customs. I can’t bend physics. A seatbelt is a seatbelt.
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Fair play: I coach Saturday soccer. One dad said his kid should get extra time because “we believe effort matters more than rules.” I do too, kinda. But we agreed to clear rules before the game. We stick to them.
When facts or promises are on the table, “it depends” can’t run the show. It’s like using a spoon to cut steak. Wrong tool.
A Week Wearing the Objectivist Hat
Next, I tried the “some things are true” hat. It felt strong. Like a seatbelt click.
If you’re still fuzzy on what counts as an Objectivist stance, I break it down in plain English over here.
If you’re curious about the deeper philosophical roots of this stance, Full Context offers a clear, reader-friendly gateway into classic Objectivist thought.
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Bug triage at work: I help test features. We had a login bug. Either you sign in or you don’t. This wasn’t about taste. We flagged it critical. We shipped a fix. Then coffee. Clear, clean, done.
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Pay and respect: I do freelance writing. I use a rate card. No haggling. No “but my cousin can do it cheaper.” Cool. Your cousin isn’t me. My rate is my rate. It protects my time and my brain.
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Math with my kid: We checked his homework. He wrote 8 x 7 = 54. He smiled. I smiled too. And we fixed it. Facts are friends. They keep the roof from falling.
Objectivism made hard calls simpler. It also gave me a backbone when someone pushed. But it has limits.
Where Objectivism Felt Too Stiff
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Name order: On a Zoom call, my teammate from China wrote her name as “Li Wei.” I corrected her to “Wei Li,” thinking I was helping. I wasn’t. That’s not wrong; it’s her name. I backed up and said sorry. Note to self: not everything is a rule I set.
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Taste and truth: We tested two app icons in an A/B test. The numbers showed “blue” won. But our Latin America team said the blue read cold in a certain context. Then we found a third icon. Numbers plus context beat numbers alone. Funny how that works.
That blend of data and empathy echoed my earlier experiment of living purely by utilitarian yardsticks for a spell—feel free to peek at that roller-coaster here.
Real Moments Where I Switched Mid-Stream
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White lies: A friend asked, “Do I look okay in this?” I wanted to be kind. But she had spinach in her teeth. I told her. Kind and true can hold hands.
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Food labels: A “natural” label on cereal doesn’t mean healthy. I now read sugar grams first. That’s objectivist me. But I also help my kid enjoy food with family stories. That’s relativist me. Both-and.
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Classroom debate: My son’s class questioned if a story hero was “good.” Some kids said yes. Some said no. They had reasons. I asked them to name one value they all shared. They said “honesty.” We used that as the anchor. Then we saw where views changed by culture or age. It felt fair.
So… Which One Should You Use?
You know what? I keep both in my pocket. I reach for them like wrenches. I check the job first.
A month-long field test of juggling two lenses side-by-side lives in this piece if you’re hungry for more.
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I go relativist when:
- Culture, taste, or feelings lead the way.
- The goal is trust or respect.
- We’re naming things that can be different and still okay.
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I go objectivist when:
- Safety, math, or promises are on the line.
- We agreed on rules up front.
- Money, time, or data would get warped by squishy talk.
It’s not a coin flip. It’s a match-up.
The Little Ratings (Because I’m Me)
- Relativist: 4/5 for people stuff. It makes rooms warmer. Docked a point because it can melt when you need a spine.
- Objectivist: 4/5 for clear calls. It guards truth and safety. Docked a point because it can miss the human side if you hold it too tight.
Tiny Digression That Matters
Cooking taught me this. Some nights I follow the recipe. That’s objectivist cooking. Other nights I swap cumin for paprika and add lime because