All books in Toni Morrison’s literary trilogy are set in post-slavery environments, showing the lives of former slaves and their descendents. However, characters must juggle repercussions of the incomplete emancipation of African American people in the 20th century. The novels reference prior unsafe settings, in which African Americans lacked control and safety. Seeking to counter past repressions of themselves and their ancestors, African American characters pursue the cultivation of spaces with a stronger sense of safety and freedom. The rural environments in Beloved and Paradise are conducive to the prioritization of protection and isolation from threat. Meanwhile, in the urban setting of Jazz, characters exercise unique freedoms in Harlem, allowing their suppressed anger to manifest in violent actions, without severe consequences. Despite their status as “free,” characters in the trilogy remain unfree, within the confines of both racist societal norms, as well as their psyches. By living in response to past infringements on their humanity, characters remain caged. These cages take the form of both physical and more abstract structures, yet they are all built upon a foundation of fear. While Sethe’s home, 129, in Beloved, demonstrates the progression of protection to repression, Joe and Violet’s apartment in Jazz reveals how suppressed anger manifests as violence. The final book in the trilogy, Paradise, combines these outcomes, illustrating an isolationist town that is aggressive towards outsiders. In all cases, characters believe that fear is a protective armor against a repetition of past traumas. However, this “armor” becomes a cage, paralyzing characters and their future generations in a state of fear. Furthermore, Morrison parallels characters’ mental states in the homes and spaces in which they live, emphasizing the potential for a home to become a cage, and a fearful mind to become a prison.

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Beloved, Morrison’s first book in the trilogy, clearly illustrates how inner turmoil manifests into one’s living space through the haunted house of 129. Morrison’s use of magical realism elucidates Sethe's dark past, as the daughter whom she killed actively haunts her home. Throughout the novel, Sethe’s imprisoned mind dwells on scarring memories from Sweet Home. Such dehumanizing experiences account for her shocking decision to kill her own child – a decision that she must live with afterwards. Consequently, the narrator claims that “not only did she live out her years in a house palsied by the baby’s fury at having its throat cut, but those ten minutes she spent pressed up against dawn-colored stone studded with star chips, her knees wide open on the grave, were longer than life, more alive, more pulsating than the baby blood that soaked her fingers like oil” (Beloved 6). Morrison’s descriptively gory language portrays the revulsive memories that are stained in Sethe’s mind. After killing her own child, Sethe had to prostitute herself in order to get a half-written gravestone for Beloved. Although these events took place long ago, Morrison’s choice of the word “alive” reminds readers that the trauma remains with Sethe in the present moment. This troubled mental state follows Sethe into her home, so much so that she warns Paul D. to “pardon” her house while entering (Beloved 10). Responsively, Paul D. confirms, “she was right. It was sad. Walking through it, a wave of grief soaked him so thoroughly he wanted to cry” (Beloved 11). Morrison highlights the tangible nature of Sethe’s dark past, which has the power to “soak” her guests in grief. Rather than limiting the effects of Sethe’s trauma to her own experiences, Morrison depicts how fear seeps into physical spaces, impacting everyone in them. Despite its unpleasantness, Sethe remains trapped within her mental anguish and her haunted house, too fearful to move forwards until she accepts the past.

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Unsurprisingly, the ghost casts a dark shadow on all residents of 129, which is specifically explored through Denver’s character. While Sethe’s two sons were “chased off” (Beloved 6) by the spirit in the house, Denver remains isolated from society with her mom: “For twelve years… there had been no visitors of any sort and certainly no friends” (Beloved 14), since her mom instilled the belief that “as close to nothing was safe” (Beloved 6). In this perpetual loneliness, Denver describes her world as “flat, with the exception of an emerald closet” (Beloved 45). Although Sethe may be shielding her daughter from potential negative experiences, she also robs her of love and connection. Thus, Denver goes to her emerald closet: “closed off from the hurt of the hurt world, Denver’s imagination produced its own hunger and its own food because loneliness wore her out. Wore her out. Veiled and protected by the live green walls, she felt ripe and clear” (Beloved 35). Denver’s intense need for a safe-space indicates that Sethe’s intentions of sheltering her daughter in 129 are deficient. Morrison also reveals how Sethe shaped Denver to believe that the world is a “hurt” place. However, Denver only feels truly safe in this outdoor space, rather than in the walls of 129. Furthermore, the vibrant language and images of renewal associated with the color green starkly contrast descriptions of 129. After describing the emerald closet, Denver is “shivering,” approaching 129, “regarding it… as a person that wept, sighed, trembled and fell into fits. A breastplate of darkness hid all the windows except one” (Beloved 35). The imagery of the breastplate is heavy and guarded, and likely references Sethe’s trauma at Sweethome, in which her breast milk was stolen through assault. Contrasting language describing the two spaces further suggests that Sethe’s protective measures create a stronger sense of  imprisonment than security. Barricaded from the real world, both Sethe and Denver remain stuck in the past until they can accept and release it.

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Although Violet and Joe in Jazz are similarly tied to the psychological implications of slavery and racism, their disturbed minds are revealed differently in an Urban setting, as compared to the rural one in Beloved. The unique freedoms available for African Americans in Harlem create an illusion of liberation. Thus, Violet and Joe express suppressed emotions through violence and impulsivity, with few consequences for erratic behavior: “Do what you please in the City, it is there to back and frame you no matter what you do” (Jazz 8). This context may contribute to the contrasting manifestations of fear in an urban setting. Although Harlem was considered to be a haven for African Americans in the early 20th century, Joe and Violet’s minds hold them hostage in the past. For example, Joe’s absent mother leaves him both needy and reckless, seeking to fill the void she left: “The third time Joe had tried to find her (he was a married man by then) he had searched the hillside for the tree – the one whose roots grew backwards as though, having gone obediently into earth and found it barren, retreating to the trunk for what was needed. Defiant and against logic its roots climbed. Towards leaves, light and wind” (Jazz 182). Joe’s persistent search for his mother – even through marriage – reveals his unresolved feelings. The tree in “barren earth” likely symbolizes Joe’s lack of connection to his origins. Similarly to the tree, Joe creates a nice life for himself against all odds, yet he looks for wholeness in others. Violet also looks outwards to absolve her inner issues, exercising her “freedoms” in ways that hurt more than they help her: “When Violent went to the funeral to see the girl and to cut her dead face they threw her to the floor and out to the church. She ran… and when she got back to her apartment she took the birds from their cages and set them out the windows to freeze or fly” (Jazz 3). Morrison’s vicious language emphasizes how repressed feelings may manifest violently when given the space. In fact, Morrison refers to Violet as “Violent,” when she acts recklessly, giving a new life to her intemperate tendencies. Traumatized by her own mother’s suicide, Violet rejected motherhood for herself, and instead opted to care for birds. However, Violet impulsively releases her beloved birds – the only source of love she has at the time – when she cannot control her emotions. Unwilling to deal with her anger, Violet lashes out, simply because she can, disregarding her true desires. Instead, both Violet and Joe “fill their minds and hands with soap and repair and dicey confrontations because what is waiting for them, in a suddenly idle moment, is the seep of rage. Molten. Thick and slow moving” (Jazz 16). The “thick” rage that awaits Violet and Joe in the present moment accounts for their business and explosive violence. In fact, Morrison mirrors their behavioral tendencies in her descriptions of their apartment.

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Morrison’s portrayal of Joe and Violet’s apartment reflects their suppressed emotions. Their apartment is “situated in the middle of the building so the apartment’s windows have no access to the moons or the light of a street lamp” (Jazz 12). The Traces shield their apartment from light in a similar way that they shield their minds from any still moments of clarity. Furthermore, Morrison writes that “Violet and Joe have arranged their furnishings in a way that… suits the habits of the body, the way a person walks from one room to another without bumping into anything, and what he wants to do when he sits down… Everything is put where a person would like to have it, or would use or need it” (Jazz 13). Situating their apartment in an uber-convenient way, Violet and Joe reflect their need to avoid thinking too deeply about anything. Just as they avoid bumping into their furniture, the Traces arrange their lives so that they never face painful reminders of their pasts. Although these choices give the false impression of freedom, Morrison’s meticulous descriptions suggest that their avoidance of the past is truly running their lives. As a result of their stifled anger, Violet and Joe end up hurting others, as well. Not only does Joe sexually take advantage of a young girl, but he then murders her, out of an inability to control his emotions. Afterwards, his wife disrupts her funeral, attempting to stab the dead girl’s face. Following Doracas’ death, Violet intriguingly places her picture on the mantle in their apartment: “In Violet and Joe Trace’s apartment, the rooms are like empty birdcages wrapped in cloth. And a dead girl’s face has become a necessary thing for their nights… they… gaze at what seems like the only living presence in the house: the photograph of a bold, unsmiling girl” (Jazz 12). After describing Joe and Violet’s varying reactions to this face, the narrator claims it to be “an inward face – whatever it sees is its own self. You are there, it says, because I am looking at you” (Jazz 12). The description of this photo implies that Joe and Violet’s fascination with Dorcas was more self-serving than pertaining to Dorcas as an individual. Thus, their involvement with Dorcas was devastatingly selfish. As the rooms in the Trace’s apartment are compared to “empty birdcages,” Morrison suggests the emptiness in Joe and Violet’s marriage, which induces them to fulfill their needs elsewhere. In doing so, their emotional immaturity is inflicted upon an innocent young girl, leading to her death. Rather than acting as birds who are truly free, they flee from their unfulfilling reality, as past scars continue to hurt them both.

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Reflecting the fearful tendencies displayed in Beloved and Jazz, Paradise demonstrates how collective fear, inflicted upon an entire community, leads to both isolating confinement, as well as external aggression. The establishment of Haven in 1890 served as a refuge for African Americans during the era of Reconstruction. Following its failure, descendents of the Haven’s founding fathers created Ruby, seeking to revive a sense of security in an all-Black community: “Loving what Haven had been – the idea of it and its reach – they carried that devotion, gentling and nurturing it… and they made their minds to do it again” (Paradise 6). The tender words describing the men’s intentions behind creating Ruby imply their virtuous goals. However, by attempting to control the fate of this town, its leaders recreate many of the racist and repressive rules that they were running away from. Using “lessons” from “the last three generations about how to protect a town” (Paradise 16), Ruby’s leaders become stubborn in their ways, prioritizing the maintenance of old ways over genuine care for human life. From a dogma of fear, Ruby’s leaders create an insular town with hostile intolerance.

Ruby’s repressiveness is well-observed through the perspective of Reverend Misner, an outsider to the town, who is perplexed by the town’s narrow-minded ways. Firstly, he notices that descendants of Haven’s founders are so tied to the past that they cannot move forwards. He notes that they “pulled from their stock of tales about their old folks, their grans and great grans; their fathers and mothers… But… why were there no stories to tell of themselves… As though past heroism was enough of a future to live by. As though, rather than children, they wanted duplicates” (Paradise 161). By comparing past generations to current ones, Misner suggests that a fixation on the past leaves people stuck there. In this sense, Ruby’s residents remain caged by fear, wishing to recreate the past, rather than move forwards. Misner also critiques Ruby’s isolationist policies, comparing Ruby to “some fortress… bought and built up to keep everybody locked in or out” (Paradise 213). By using the word “locked,” Misner evokes the image of a cage, which has rigid barriers. Misner further claims that “separating us, isolating us – that’s always been their weapon. Isolation kills generations. It has no future” (Paradise 210). Misner’s commentary on the fortress of Ruby notes the sense of segregation between residents and non-residents. Ironically, the tactic of segregation was the “weapon” used by White people to justify racism, which Ruby’s founders were so terrified of. Yet through this intense fear, “the glacial wariness they once confined to strangers more and more was directed towards each other… Why such stubbornness, such venom against asserting rights… of Black people? They, of all people, knew the necessity of unalloyed will” (Paradise 161). Compared to the warm language Morrison used to describe the intentions of Ruby’s founders, she uses cold, icy diction, such as “glacial,” when discussing the intolerance of the town. Stating the importance of an “unalloyed will,” Misner targets confounding emotions influencing the policies of Ruby, including fear. In fact, Misner claims that residents were “confusing self-respect for arrogance, preparedness for disobedience” (Paradise 209), showing how the rigidity of Ruby’s policies are counteractive, creating an unsafe space. Ultimately, this intolerance becomes more viscous than passive, as Ruby’s leaders massacre innocent women in the Convent. 

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Not only do Ruby’s residents remain caged in the past through isolationism, but they also discriminate against others, eventually leading to extreme violence. When introducing the women in the Convent, Morrison describes them as “strange neighbors, but harmless. More than harmless, even helpful on occasion (Paradise 11). Willing to “take people in – lost folks or folks who needed a rest,” (Paradise 11), the Convent became a true haven, especially for women seeking refuge from Ruby’s repressive rules. In fact, when Arnette is pregnant with KD’s baby, she goes to the Convent to induce an abortion. However, when Ruby’s leaders notice themselves losing control of their residents, especially at mercy of the Convent, they paint an exaggeratedly negative image of these women, even calling them “bitches,” “witches” and “sluts” (Paradise 276). These derogatory terms contrast Morrison’s prior description of the welcoming, helpful Convent women, suggesting the mean-spirited nature of inaccurate character judgments. When considering the “intolerable ways” that Ruby was changing, Ruby’s leaders “did not think to fix it by extending a hand in fellowship or love. They mapped defense instead and honed evidence for its need, till each piece fit in an already polished grove” (Paradise 275). By contrasting loving and fearful approaches to change, Morrison emphasizes the mistrusting nature of Ruby’s leaders. Furthermore, the activeness of “mapping defense” and “honing evidence” suggests that Ruby’s leaders are piecing together a fabricated image of the Convent women to fit their own agendas. When considering “Steward and Deacon’s motive” for targeting the Convent, Lone concludes that “neither one puts up with what he couldn’t control” (Paradise 278). Through this bigoted mindset, nine Ruby men justify their “blessed mission” (Paradise 292) of massacring the Convent women. When asked why they “massacred those women, KD claims, “we didn’t come here to kill anybody… It was self defense!” (Paradise 290). This response reveals how men of Ruby confuse control for safety and a lack of control for a need to attack. Emphasizing the ironic title, Paradise, Ruby becomes the thing it feared: an unsafe space.

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Toni Morrison’s literary trilogy features various settings, demonstrating manifestations of fear throughout these locations. In these post-slavery environments, Morrison illustrates the interior lives of former slaves, as well as African Americans living under an incomplete emancipation. As characters build new lives and homes for themselves, Morrison illustrates how fear is a cage paralyzing individuals in the past. In Beloved, Morrison displays how this fear may cause individuals to turn inwards, as Sethe restricts her life within the walls of her first safe-place, in 129. However, this home quickly becomes haunted with the past, pulling both Sethe and her children away from reality and true freedom. Meanwhile, Violet and Joe impulsively express their emotional insecurities outwards, acting in rash and violent ways. Although their apartment in Harlem initially represented a shared slice of freedom, both Joe and Violet’s unresolved emotions eventually run their lives in New York. Ultimately, Paradise demonstrates a combination of the two, in which the insular town of Ruby remains stuck in the past, while also expressing fear by rejecting and harming outsiders. Ironically, the three living spaces featured in the novels were intended to be a safe-haven, harboring African Americans from past abuses. Many African Americans migrated throughout the 20th century, as slavery institutions were progressively dismantled, and slaves were freed. Thus, ex-slaves sought the sense of security, freedom and control that their lives priorly lacked. However, Morrison demonstrates how a mind that is run by fear may take extreme measures to feel safe, ultimately creating a space that is truly unsafe. Therefore, Morrison’s literary trilogy reminds readers that the emancipation of African Americans is not complete until they are free both externally and internally.