Read the excerpt from "A Genetics of Justice” by Julia Alvarez.Passage A:Given this mandate of silence, I was a real thorn in my mother's side.She had named me, her second of four daughters, after herself—so we shared the same name. Of all her babies, she reports, l was the best behaved, until l learned to talk. Then, I would not shut up. I always had to answer her back when I disagreed with her. Childhood was rocky, but adolescence was a full-fledged war.Passage B:Unfortunately for my mother, I grew up to be a writer publishing under my maiden name.
Which statements accurately compare the two passages? Select three options.
Read the excerpts from the beginning, middle, and end of "A Genetics of Justice” by Julia Alvarez.Passage A:Perhaps because I was spared, at ten, from the dictatorship my parents endured most of their lives, I often imagine what it must have been like for them growing up under the absolute rule of Generalísimo Rafael Leonidas Trujillo.Passage B:I knew very little about what was actually going on in the Dominican Republic. Whenever la situación on the island came up, my parents spoke in hushed voices.Passage C:Then I started to work on my second novel. My mother heard from one of my sisters that I was writing about the dictatorship. . . .. . . Days later, my mother called me up to tell me she had just finished the novel. "You put me back in those days. It was like I was reliving it all,” she said sobbing. "I don't care what happens to us! I'm so proud of you for writing this book.”
Read the excerpt from "A Genetics of Justice” by Julia Alvarez.My mother, especially, lived in terror of the consequences of living as free citizens. In New York City, before Trujillo was killed, Dominican exiles gathered around the young revolutionary Juan Bosch planning an invasion of the Island. Every time my father attended these meetings, my mother would get hysterical. If the SIM found out about my father's activities, family members remaining behind were likely to be in danger. Even our own family in New York could suffer consequences. Five years earlier, in 1955, Galindez, an exile anti-Trujillo teaching at Columbia University, had disappeared from a New York subway. The same thing could happen to us.I don't know if my father complied or just got too busy trying to make a living in this country. But after a few months of hotheaded attendance, he dropped out of these political activities and his silence deepened.
Read the excerpt from "A Genetics of Justice” by Julia Alvarez.When my sisters and I cared too much about our appearance, my mother would tell us how Trujillo's vanity knew no bounds. How in order to appear taller, his shoes were specially made abroad with built-in heels that added inches to his height. How plumes for his Napoleonic hats were purchased in Paris and shipped in vacuum-packed boxes to the Island. How his uniforms were trimmed with tassels and gold epaulettes and red sashes, pinned with his medals, crisscrossing his chest. How he costumed himself in dress uniforms and ceremonial hats and white gloves—all of this in a tropical country where men wore guayaberas in lieu of suit jackets, short-sleeved shirts worn untucked so the body could be ventilated. My mother could go on and on.
Read the excerpt from "A Genetics of Justice” by Julia Alvarez.Images of the dictator hung in every house next to the crucifix and Ia Virgencita with the declaration beneath: In this house Trujillo is Chief. The pale face of a young military man wearing a plumed bicorne hat and a gold–braided uniform looked down beneficently at my mother as she read her romantic novelas and dreamed of meeting the great love of her life. Sometimes in her daydreams, her great love wore the handsome young dictator’s face. Never having seen him, my mother could not know the portrait was heavily retouched.
Read the excerpt from "A Genetics of Justice” by Julia Alvarez.Perhaps because she had innocently revered him, my mother was now doubly revolted by this cold-blooded monster. He became something of an obsession with her—living as she was by then in exile with my father, isolated from her family who were still living on the Island. As my sisters and I were growing up, Trujillo and his excesses figured in many of my mother’s cautionary tales.
Read the excerpt from "A Genetics of Justice” by Julia Alvarez.Periodically, Trujillo would demand a tribute, and they would acquiesce. A tax, a dummy vote, a portrait on the wall. To my father and other men in the country, the most humiliating of these tributes was the occasional parade in which women were made to march and turn their heads and acknowledge the great man as they passed the review stand.If you did not march, your cédula would not be stamped, and without a stamped identification card, you could do nothing; in particular, you could not obtain your passport to leave the country under the pretext of wanting to study heart surgery. This was the second escape—this time with his whole family—that my father was planning.The day came when my mother had to march. The parade went on for hours in the hot sun until my mother was sure she was going to faint. Her feet were swollen and hurting. The back of her white dress was damp with sweat. Finally when she thought she could not go one more step, the grandstand came into sight, a clutter of dress uniforms, a vague figure on the podium.
Read the excerpt from "A Genetics of Justice” by Julia Alvarez.Passage A:And so, long after we had left, my parents were still living in the dictatorship inside their own heads. Even on American soil, they were afraid of awful consequences if they spoke out or disagreed with authorities. The First Amendment right to free speech meant nothing to them. Silence about anything "political” was the rule in our house.Passage B:My mother, especially, lived in terror of the consequences of living as free citizens. In New York City, before Trujillo was killed, Dominican exiles gathered around the young revolutionary Juan Bosch planning an invasion of the Island. Every time my father attended these meetings, my mother would get hysterical. If the SIM found out about my father's activities, family members remaining behind were likely to be in danger. Even our own family in New York could suffer consequences.
Read the excerpt from "A Genetics of Justice” by Julia Alvarez.When my sisters and I cared too much about our appearance, my mother would tell us how Trujillo's vanity knew no bounds. How in order to appear taller, his shoes were specially made abroad with built-in heels that added inches to his height. How plumes for his Napoleonic hats were purchased in Paris and shipped in vacuum-packed boxes to the Island. How his uniforms were trimmed with tassels and gold epaulettes and red sashes, pinned with his medals, crisscrossing his chest. How he costumed himself in dress uniforms and ceremonial hats and white gloves—all of this in a tropical country where men wore guayaberas in lieu of suit jackets, short-sleeved shirts worn untucked so the body could be ventilated. My mother could go on and on.
Read the two excerpts."Remembering to Never Forget: Dominican Republic's 'Parsley Massacre’” by Mark Memmott:Seventy-five years ago, thousands of Haitians were murdered in the Dominican Republic by a brutal dictator. It was one of the 20th Century's least-remembered acts of genocide.As many as 20,000 people are thought to have been killed on orders given by Rafael Trujillo. But the "parsley massacre” went mostly unnoticed outside Hispaniola. Even there, many Dominicans never knew about what happened in early October 1937. They were kept in the dark by Trujillo's henchmen."A Genetics of Justice” by Julia Alvarez:At this point I would always ask her why she and my father had returned to live in the country if they knew the dictatorship was so bad. And that's when my mother would tell me how, under pressure from his friends up north, Trujillo pretended to be liberalizing his regime. How he invited all exiles back to form political parties. How he announced that he would not be running in the next elections. My father had returned only to discover that the liberalization was a hoax staged so that the regime could keep the goodwill and dollars of the United States.My father and mother were once again trapped in a police state.
Read the excerpt from "A Genetics of Justice” by Julia Alvarez.Images of the dictator hung in every house next to the crucifix and Ia Virgencita with the declaration beneath: In this house Trujillo is Chief. The pale face of a young military man wearing a plumed bicorne hat and a gold–braided uniform looked down beneficently at my mother as she read her romantic novelas and dreamed of meeting the great love of her life. Sometimes in her daydreams, her great love wore the handsome young dictator’s face. Never having seen him, my mother could not know the portrait was heavily retouched.
Which details does the author include to support the central idea about the result of the dictatorship? Select two options.
Which details does the author include to support the central idea about how her mother felt about the dictator? Select three options.
Read the excerpt from "A Genetics of Justice” by Julia Alvarez.Periodically, Trujillo would demand a tribute, and they would acquiesce. A tax, a dummy vote, a portrait on the wall. To my father and other men in the country, the most humiliating of these tributes was the occasional parade in which women were made to march and turn their heads and acknowledge the great man as they passed the review stand.If you did not march, your cédula would not be stamped, and without a stamped identification card, you could do nothing; in particular, you could not obtain your passport to leave the country under the pretext of wanting to study heart surgery. This was the second escape—this time with his whole family—that my father was planning.The day came when my mother had to march.
Read the excerpt from "A Genetics of Justice” by Julia Alvarez.Passage A:Given this mandate of silence, I was a real thorn in my mother's side.She had named me, her second of four daughters, after herself—so we shared the same name. Of all her babies, she reports, l was the best behaved, until l learned to talk. Then, I would not shut up. I always had to answer her back when I disagreed with her. Childhood was rocky, but adolescence was a full-fledged war.Passage B:Unfortunately for my mother, I grew up to be a writer publishing under my maiden name.
Read the two excerpts."Remembering to Never Forget: Dominican Republic's 'Parsley Massacre’” by Mark Memmott:As for Trujillo, he stayed in power until 1961, when he was assassinated. Last year, the BBC spoke with one of the army officers who killed the dictator. "The only way to get rid of him was to kill him,” Gen. Antonio Imbert told the BBC."A Genetics of Justice” by Julia Alvarez:On May 30, 1961, nine months after our escape from our homeland, the group of plotters with whom my father had been associated assassinated the dictator. Actually, Dominicans do not refer to the death as an assassination but as an ajusticiamiento, a bringing to justice. Finally, after thirty-one years, Trujillo was brought to justice, found guilty, and executed.But the execution was an external event, not necessarily an internal exorcism. All their lives my parents, along with a nation of Dominicans, had learned the habits of repression, censorship, terror. Those habits would not disappear with a few bullets and a national liberation proclamation. They would not disappear on a plane ride north that put hundreds of miles distance between the island and our apartment in New York.
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