Love in Beloved is chaotic and definitely controversial. Love is a necessity for life. Without love we can have no hope for something more. It is difficult to find where the love lies in Beloved due to its dark elements. I find myself wondering, is there a limit to love? Sethe fears that her child will have to live a life full of pain and suffering because of this she makes the difficult decision to kill her baby. This is where love becomes controversial and we ask ourselves “wait is this okay?”.
Do we blame society for allowing a mother to be this fearful for her child’s future or do we say the mother is insane and move on from it. All of the characters struggle with deciphering what love truly is and characters like Paul D try to avoid feeling love all together. In my previous post about Beloved I talked about how perhaps finding home is obtaining ones freedom. Real love especially for Sethe and Beloved is realizing you have to move past guilt and let the other person go, therefore making them free.
“Love is or it ain’t. Thin love ain’t love at all.” Is Sethe’s love too thick? Did she put all her love into beloved only to come back feeling empty. She loved beloved so mush that she didn’t want her to go through the pain she felt. “Thin love” can be seen as things that are halfway done or temporary materialistic items. Sethe has inherited trauma that she then passes on to her children. She can’t get past it. Her guilt is blinding her from love. “You are your best thing” Paul D says to Sethe but she is unable to see that for herself. You need to love you. I leave you with this passage from Beloved.
“In this here place, we flesh; flesh that weeps, laughs; flesh that dances on bare feet in grass. Love it. Love it hard. Yonder they do not love your flesh. They despise it. They don’t love your eyes; they’d just as soon pick em out. No more do they love the skin on your back. Yonder they flay it. And O my people they do not love your hands. Those they only use, tie, bind, chop off and leave empty. Love your hands! Love them. Raise them up and kiss them. Touch others with them, pat them together, stroke them on your face ’cause they don’t love that either. You got to love it, you! And no, they ain’t in love with your mouth. Yonder, out there, they will see it broken and break it again. What you say out of it they will not heed. What you scream from it they do not hear. What you put into it to nourish your body they will snatch away and give you leavins instead. No, they don’t love your mouth. You got to love it. This is flesh I’m talking about here. Flesh that needs to be loved. Feet that need to rest and to dance; backs that need support; shoulders that need arms, strong arms I’m telling you. And O my people, out yonder, hear me, they do not love your neck unnoosed and straight. So love your neck; put a hand on it, grace it, stroke it and hold it up. and all your inside parts that they’d just as soon slop for hogs, you got to love them. The dark, dark liver–love it, love it and the beat and beating heart, love that too. More than eyes or feet. More than lungs that have yet to draw free air. More than your life-holding womb and your life-giving private parts, hear me now, love your heart. For this is the prize.”
― Toni Morrison, Beloved
Boba Gal Books 