Question

from \my true south: why i decided to return home\ by jesmyn ward
15 i like to imagine that one day, i will build a home of cement, a home built to weather the elements, in a clearing in a piney
southern wood, riven with oak and dogwood. id like a small garden where i could grow yellow squash and bell peppers in the
summer, collards and carrots in the winter, and perhaps keep a few chickens. i wish for one or two kind neighbors who will return
my headstrong bulldog if she wanders off, neighbors who i can gift a gallon of water in the aftermath of a hurricane. i like to think
that after i die, my children will look at that place and see a place of refuge, of rest. i hope they do not flee. i hope that at least one
of them will want to remain here in this place that i love more than i loathe, and i hope the work that i have done to make
mississippi a place worth living is enough. i hope they feel more themselves in this place than any other in the world, and that if
they do leave, they dream of that house, that clearing, those woods, when they sleep.

16 this is the answer with teeth. the reply that demands nuance, introspection and ruthless clarity, enough to see that this can be
another place. even as the south remains troubled by its past, there are people here who are fighting so it can find its way to a
healthier future, never forgetting the lessons of its long, brutal history, ever present, ever instructive.

17 we stand at the edge of a gulf, looking out on a surging, endless expanse of time and violence, constant and immense, and like
water, it wishes to swallow us. we resist. we dredge new beaches, build seawalls, fortify the shore and hold fast to each other,
even as storm after storm pushes down on us. we learn how to bear the rain, the wind, the inexorable waves. we fear its power,
respect its reach, but we learn how to navigate it, because we must. we draw sustenance from it. we dream of a day when we will
not feel the need to throw our children into its maw to shock them into learning how to swim. we stand. and we build.

1. which sentence in these paragraphs best summarizes the authors claim?

a. i like to imagine that one day, i will build a home of cement, a home built to weather the elements, in a clearing in a piney southern wood, riven
with oak and dogwood.
b. i like to think that after i die, my children will look at that place and see a place of refuge, of rest.
c. even as the south remains troubled by its past, there are people here who are fighting so it can find its way to a healthier future, never forgetting
the lessons of its long, brutal history, ever present, ever instructive.
d. we stand at the edge of a gulf, looking out on a surging, endless expanse of time and violence, constant and immense, and like water, it wishes to

Explanation:

The author's claim centers on the South's troubled past paired with active efforts toward a better future, rooted in remembering its history. Option A is a personal dream of a home, not the overarching claim. Option B focuses on a personal hope for children, not the core argument about the South. Option D describes the struggle but not the forward-looking, redemptive claim. Option C directly states the balance of confronting the past and working toward a healthier future, which encapsulates the author's central claim.

Answer:

C. Even as the South remains troubled by its past, there are people here who are fighting so it can find its way to a healthier future, never forgetting the lessons of its long, brutal history, ever present, ever instructive.