In “Ugly Feelings” Sianne Ngai discusses feelings that have emerged in modern times such as irritation, envy, anxiety, paranoia, and boredom as a result of late capitalism in which individuals may feel powerless or agency is limited. She compares these to more ‘classical’ feelings such as rage, passion, and pity, which she sees as more productive affects. As I read, I found it difficult to discern whether or not Ngai approves of ‘ugly feelings’ because she describes them as necessary for the society we live in, but mostly speaks negatively of them. She notes, “central and perversely functional such affective atti­tudes and dispositions have become, as the very lubricants of the economic system which they originally came into being to oppose” (2643). She’s saying that these affects are necessary in order to function in a capitalist society, which honestly perplexed me since she’s also speaking about these affects in a negative light. This also made me think about the fact that today, there is less stigmatization surrounding mental health and it is discussed a lot more than it used to be. Perhaps ugly feelings such as anxiety have always existed, but 1. are acknowledged more in modern times and 2. are exacerbated by not only capitalism, but other pressures such as relationships, societal expectations, health concerns, etc. 

Another point of Ngai’s that struck me was her contrast between these ugly feelings and more classical ones: “…the nature of the sociopolitical itself has changed in a manner that both calls forth and calls upon a new set of feelings— ones less powerful than the classical political passions, though perhaps more suited, in their ambient…” (2643). Using the word ‘powerful’ struck me here, because who’s to say if one emotion is more or less powerful than another? I have definitely felt anxiety in stronger ways than I have rage, so I guess I’m grappling with the question of why are ugly feelings not as productive or admirable as classical ones? Ngai addresses this later on by discussing the fact that ugly feelings exist in a sort of cycle and are characterized by ‘flatness’ or ‘ongoingness’ versus the ‘suddenness’ of classical feelings (or rats and possums versus lions). This was also an idea I was grappling with, because wouldn’t it be considered a good thing to control your emotions and not have such strong, overdramatic reactions? Should we all really be living our lives like a Shakespearean tragedy? I also found her mention of Ahab interesting since he is a character I have analyzed a lot, and he ultimately caused his own downfall and misery due to his immense rage. Perhaps Ngai here is suggesting that classical feelings are good for the drama of literature, but not necessarily good for real life.

I was also a bit confused about Ngai’s notion of subjectivity versus objectivity. Similar to art or aesthetics which she mentions frequently, aren’t all emotions or affects subjective? She says that, “Unlike emotions, affective states are neither structured narratively nor organized in response to our interpretations of situations.” (2649) I was a bit confused about how affects are not in response to situations, but she says that affects are more ambiguous or not connected to action. Ngai asserts, “While one can be irritated without realizing it, or knowing exactly what one is irritated about, there can be nothing ambiguous about ones rage or terror, or about what one is terrified of or enraged about” (2650). The way she phrased this made a bit more sense to me, because anxiety and irritation can sort of sneak up on you, but with rage and terror it’s very clear where those emotions stem from. Towards the end of the essay, she also makes it clear that ugly feelings are different from classical ones in terms of intensity rather than quality which also clarified the differences between the two a bit more for me.

In Michael Foucalt’s The History of Sexuality, he challenges the idea that society has repressed conversations and ideas about sex, and instead argues that state institutions since the 17th century have proliferated conversations surrounding sex as well as controlled the way sexual behaviors were discussed. He notes that this shift “…was the first time that a society had affirmed, in a constant way, that its future and its fortune were tied not only to the number and the uprightness of its citizens, to their marriage rules and family organization, but to the manner in which each individual made use of his sex” (1426). In this way, Foucault is insinuating that there was less of a focus on sex in terms of marriage, but more of a focus on sex and what it means for the individual.

In addition to more of a focus on the individual, Foucalt notes that sex had also become something to be analyzed or spoken about in terms of knowledge rather than spoken about in terms of morality or legality. He notes, “But as this first overview shows, we are dealing less with a discourse on sex than with a multiplicity of discourses produced by a whole series of mechanisms operating in different institutions” (1431). Here, I believe Foucalt is saying that sex cannot be thought of as a discourse or idea on its own, but that there are many ways of speaking about sex. A plethora of institutions (educational, religious, political, etc.) shape how sex / sexuality is understood and controlled. I wonder how these institutions specifically play a role in my life in terms of my attitudes, beliefs, and identity regarding sexuality. Is it solely dependent on where you grew up / family life / school / religion? This way of thinking about it makes the most sense to me, since these are institutions that have largely shaped my personal beliefs throughout my existence, but I wonder how complex and deep this network of power and control truly goes. Is it even something I’m even aware of on a conscious level? 

Foucalt also argues that state institutions pushed for people to talk about sex, with the intent of controlling the narrative or the way sexual behaviors are discussed. I grapple with this sort of double entendre: how can institutions urge people to speak about sex, while also attempting to assert dominance over the ways it is spoken about? What is the purpose? Foucalt asserts, “What is peculiar to modern societies, in fact, is not that they consigned sex to a shadow existence, but that they dedicated themselves to speaking of it ad infinitum, while exploiting it as the secret” (1432). I believe Foucalt is pointing out the contradiction of modern societies and institutions encouraging people to speak about sex as much as possible, while still controlling it to be taboo or ‘secret.’ I suppose if institutions are able to get people to speak about sex, but only in the ways they prefer, this perpetuates the idea that there is much control over the way sex is seen and spoken about, despite the common misconception that we are much more liberated today in being able to speak freely about it. 

This leads me to think of modern day examples of state’s influence over sexuality: abortion rights, LGBTQIA+ rights, sex education and what gets taught in schools, etc. These assertions of power are not black and white in how they restrict sexuality, but are complex in that they shape our attitudes and beliefs about sex over time. Foucalt says, “Perhaps the point to consider is not the level of indulgence or the quan­tity of repression but the form of power that was exercised” (1435). In terms of modern day restrictions on sexuality, I think Foucalt would urge us to think not in terms of restrict versus indulge but rather how social institutions such as medicine, family, religion, state laws, etc. shape our behaviors and attitudes towards sex and sexuality, and to question these power structures and their influence over the way we think and speak (or don’t speak) about sex.

In Derrida’s “Structure, Sign, and Play” he discusses the problem of the “center” in structuralist thinking and how despite the fact that structuralists look to this center for stability and organization, it does not even really exist due to the fact that meaning is fluid and shifting and the center can never be unchanging; it is arbitrary. In his critique of Levi-Strauss, Deridda notes that Levi-Strauss frames incest prohibition as a universal structure that is necessary for the functioning of society. He says that it is a foundational rule that structures kinship and social organization. Deridda argues that that incest taboo cannot be universally structured or fixed since ‘universal truths’ are ever-changing and involve the play of difference and interpretation. I may be over-simplifying or misunderstanding Deridda’s point here, but as I was reading I couldn’t help but think to myself, isn’t incest universally structured in terms of it’s right or it’s wrong?

I had a hard time understanding why Deridda uses this as an example since it does seem to me like a structure that either is or is not. Another example besides incest prohibition I was thinking about were the justice system / morality / laws. To me, this seems like an example that would better fit Deridda’s point: these are structures that are complicated and nuanced in relation to the fact that they are ever-changing, vary from one social structure to another, and have fluidity in terms of cultural norms and meanings. If I were to find some sort of answer to this query in Deridda’s work, he says “It could perhaps be said that the whole of philosophical conceptualization, which is systematic with the nature/culture opposition, is designed to leave in the domain of the unthinkable the very thing that makes this conceptualization possible: the origin of the prohibition of incest” (283-284). My understanding of this notion is that the nature/culture opposition is structured in such a way that it makes certain ideas ‘unthinkable’ such as the origin of the prohibition of incest. The actual original creation of this law or rule that prohibits incest is not something that is thought about, when really it is essential to understanding how the system functions.

I wonder how knowing a system or structure’s origin makes it more ‘thinkable?’ If Deridda is suggesting that structures are fluid and constantly changing, then wouldn’t knowing a structure’s origin be a moot point? In other words, if we take the example of the judicial system, wouldn’t the most recent law established or the most recent changing to a law be the most prevalent to a society or culture rather than the origin of that law? Deridda notes that once Levi-Strauss confronts the implications of the universality of the incest taboo, he has two possible paths. The one he says Levi-Strauss more so takes is that he acknowledges these discoveries but places no real ‘truth value’ on them. He says that Levi-Strauss conserves these older concepts “…within the domain of empirical discovery while here and there denouncing their limits, treating them as tools which can still be used. No longer is any truth value attributed to them; there is a readiness to abandon them, if necessary, should other instruments appear more useful” (284). I struggle to grasp why Derrida believes this path is so wrong. If Derrida thinks that structure is unfixed, unstable, and always open to interpretation and meaning, how can any structure or system have any truth value? Shouldn’t he be celebrating the ability to abandon one meaning to move on to another more ‘useful’ one? Or is Derrida insinuating that it is impossible to attribute new meanings to structures without having a fixed point, or origin to jump off of?

In Nietzsche’s “On Truth and Lying…” he questions what ‘truth’ is and who determines its existence. He notes that our perspective of the world is filtered through our own personal interpretations. Therefore, language is subjective: it begins as nervous stimulus, becomes an image, and is then communicated through sound. Nietzsche asserts, “We believe that when we speak of trees, colours, snow, and flowers, we have knowledge of the things themselves, and yet we possess only metaphors of things which in no way correspond to the original entities” (755). In response to this notion, he asks, “What then, is truth?” To which he answers:  “…truths are illusions of which we have forgotten that they are illusions, metaphors which have become worn by fre­quent use and have lost all sensuous vigour…” (756). Generations and generations ago, someone determined that a tree should be called a ‘tree,’ so he is insinuating that what we consider ‘truth’ is just an idea that is passed down through the generations and is our way of making sense of the world. He states, “But the fact that a metaphor becomes hard and rigid is absolutely no guarantee of the necessity and exclusive justification of that metaphor” (758). Truth, or what human beings have classified as truth, is not reality simply because it has been repeated. However, if a tree has always been referred to as ‘a tree,’ can’t this be the only truth? What is the original truth or truthful way to ascribe meaning to an object? Years ago, if a tree was given the signifier ‘chair,’ would that be its truth? Is the truth the actual, physical tree as it stands in nature? 

In this search for determining what truth is, Nietzsche says, “If I create the definition of a mammal and then, having inspected a camel, declare, ‘Behold, a mammal’, then a truth has certainly been brought to light, but it is of limited value…” (757). Humans can be regarded as ‘architectural geniuses’ in that we manufacture and create concepts, forget that they were metaphors to begin with, and then regard them as truth. He notes, “Thus, forgetting that the original metaphors of perception were indeed metaphors, he takes them for the things themselves” (757). We come to regard our metaphors as ‘true’ and forget that they are not in rooted in reality. I find it fascinating that Nietzsche asserts that not even science is truth, since it is still filtered through human perspective and interpretation. His assertions made me think about the way we use the words ‘truth’ and ‘lies,’ if really there is no such thing as truth. Perhaps when I instill in my students the importance of ‘truth’ and ‘telling the truth’ I’m really telling them to do something impossible since truth does not really exist.