The Untranslatable Emotion: Understanding Gigil
Every time I saw my grandmother, she greeted me with a unique ritual. Her eyes would lock onto mine, and she’d emit a sound somewhere between a growl and a hiss. Then, with hands firm and deliberate, she’d clamp both onto my cheeks as if testing a melon for ripeness. I was about six years old and assumed this was just standard adult behaviour.
What I later learned was far more complex than a mere greeting. It was an intense, almost explosive expression of love—closer to a controlled detonation than a hug. Her hands needed a job, and my face was the closest available surface.
In Manila, this feeling has a name: gigil.
The Word English Never Got Round to Inventing
Gigil is a Tagalog word that perfectly captures a sensation English struggles to describe. It refers to the overwhelming urge to squeeze or pinch something unbearably cute. It’s a physical reaction where your hands clench, teeth grit, and you feel compelled to express affection through an almost aggressive squeeze.
For most of my life, gigil was a word reserved for conversations with other Filipinos. To non-Filipinos, I would offer a lengthy explanation and often receive a puzzled or concerned look. That changed in March 2025 when the Oxford English Dictionary officially added gigil as an entry, among more than forty borrowed words that fill emotional and cultural gaps in English.
This recognition, though small, felt deeply personal—as if a part of my heritage had been acknowledged on a global stage.
Yale Needed 109 Volunteers and a Lot of Bubble Wrap
While Filipino grandmothers have long understood gigil intuitively, scientific research only caught up recently. Around 2012, two Yale graduate students, Rebecca Dyer and Oriana Aragón, conducted a study exploring what psychologists now term “cute aggression.”
In their experiment, participants viewed slideshows featuring cute animals, funny animals, and neutral animals. Each participant was given bubble wrap and told the study focused on motor activity, with instructions to pop as many or as few bubbles as they liked.
Results showed the “cute” group popped about 120 bubbles on average, the neutral group just over 100, and the funny group around 80. This compulsive urge to “pop” or squeeze is what the researchers identified as cute aggression—a paradoxical, aggressive response triggered by overwhelming affection.
When asked about the English equivalent, Oriana Aragón pointed to gigil, reinforcing the idea that some emotions defy simple translation.
What Your Brain Is Actually Up To
The phenomenon of gigil and cute aggression falls under what psychologists call dimorphous expressions: emotional states that generate two opposite external reactions.
Put simply, when feelings become too intense, the brain channels some of that emotional energy through an unexpected outlet—often a negative or aggressive one. This explains why people might cry at weddings, laugh during sad moments, or feel the urge to pinch a puppy’s cheeks.
Researchers theorize this response acts as a pressure valve, preventing us from being overwhelmed by positive emotions, allowing us to maintain emotional balance. It keeps us from standing transfixed by cuteness for hours on end.
Further evidence came in 2018 when Katherine Stavropoulos at UC Riverside used brain electrodes on 54 participants. Those experiencing the strongest cute aggression showed increased activity in the brain’s reward pathways, providing the first direct neural proof of this complex emotional response.
While the sample size was limited, these findings align with behavioral research, suggesting gigil is a natural, adaptive part of human emotion rather than a psychological quirk.
Good News Arrives Sideways Too
Gigil is not just about puppies and grandmothers; it’s a window into how we process large, complex emotions. The day I signed papers selling my restaurants during the height of the pandemic, I unexpectedly laughed alone in a parking lot. This undignified laughter felt strange given the gravity of the moment.
For months, I questioned my own emotional response. Years of hard work had seemingly vanished, yet my body chose laughter instead of tears or sorrow.
What I now understand is that intense feelings don’t always express themselves in straightforward ways. Emotions often arrive sideways—happy tears, nervous laughter, or emotional numbness following significant events.
Much of the self-doubt people experience in their emotional lives stems from the mistaken belief that their outward reactions must directly match their inner feelings. More often than not, they don’t.
Why Having the Word Helps
I am cautious about the idea that naming emotions instantly resolves internal struggles; self-help advice is full of such oversimplifications. However, naming emotions like gigil does serve a vital purpose: it removes the isolating fear that your feelings are unique or abnormal.
Before gigil entered my vocabulary, my grandmother’s intense greetings felt like a personal quirk I couldn’t easily explain or defend. Once named, gigil became a recognized, researched human response with academic backing and dictionary legitimacy. The same behavior suddenly carried a very different weight.
This concept extends beyond gigil to less glamorous emotions. If you ever feel resentment toward someone you love or find yourself emotionally flat after a success, naming these feelings can help you explore what they’re regulating within you.
Three Things I Do With It Now
First, I stopped policing my emotional reactions for “correctness.” When my responses are odd but harmless, I allow them to flow naturally. For example, my beagle Hugo often hears me speak in a tone I’d deny under oath.
Second, I’ve learned to interpret others’ sideways emotional signals with more empathy. A friend cracking a joke at a funeral isn’t being callous, and a colleague’s quietness after praise isn’t ingratitude. These reactions often signal emotional intensity rather than insensitivity.
Third, I monitor when these emotional “pressure valves” might be opening too frequently or intensely. Occasional gigil is normal, but if you regularly feel overwhelmed or confused by your reactions, it’s wise to speak with a healthcare professional or trusted confidant.
My grandmother passed away before gigil earned its place in the dictionary. But she didn’t need the word—she had the feeling, and she expressed it on my face for over a decade.
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