Being a female almost always translates into being a victim. In addition to the subjugations of time and circumstances that all humans face, women, by virtue of being female, carry an additional burden. That is the burden of expectation; to meet and surpass standards designed to be unattainable, assume roles that are disparaging in nature while finding a way to be extraordinary and relevant enough for regard. In other words, she is to be the filler that holds all things together yet she is not to be regarded as such. As these expectations continuously fail to be reached, the woman is slowly become defined by their shortcomings, characterized by her vulnerability, thus considered deserving of a life of mindless subordination. Essentially, it translates to a lifestyle of victimization and oppression in which virtues of freedom and self-expression are taken away at an early age, and any sign of objection will result in retribution of various kinds, further silencing and diminishing the female's view of self. Female oppression and objectifications are not always apparent however, and at times requires the unveiling of several layers to see its full extent. Such is the case in Amy Tan's short story, Two Kinds. On the surface, Two Kinds is of a turbulent relationship between a Chinese immigrant mother and Chinese American daughter. The turbulence stems mainly from Mrs. Woo's interminable desire to have Jing-Mei discovered as a prodigy and Jing-Mei's willful rebellion against her mother's wishes. The story reaches its climax when the mother displays her authority over her daughter's actions and a heated argument full of spiteful words ensues. It concludes with an ironic epiphany from the object that was supposedly the root of their problems (the piano) bringing Jing-Mei's perception of her mother full circle. Beneath the relatable plot is a story about a woman whose concept of success and worth has been skewed as a result of the melding of extremes from two patriarchal cultures (Chinese and American), her daughter's experiences with those views and the impact it has on their relationship. Although the story offers minimal information about Mrs. Woo's former life in China, the loss (or separation) of her family means her time in china was at best, unfortunate and at worse, adverse. This is likely to be a similar experience between many Chinese women of that time as the society in Pre-Communist China "treated [women] like livestock or baby machines.  It was a world where they could only be one of the three things; wife, concubine or prostitute and lack of voice and personhood were infused into all three of these roles. Each was more degrading and oppressive than the preceding and successful in systematically stripping the woman of their human rights to the point that she was merely an object of sexual pleasure. Bound by the understated custom of "blind obedience to the men of the household,  women had "no power of her own  and it is with that ideology that Mrs. Woo left China; yet she saw her physical relocation as a chance at a new life. Despite the tragedy she endured in china, "she never looked back with regret  because she knew that "things could get better in so many ways  reiterating the fact that life in China was undesirable, at least to some degree. In light of the world Mrs. Woo grew up in, it is not illogical that she was only trying to give her daughter the opportunity to regain some of the power she had been deprived of for so many years. As misconstrued as it may seem, she genuinely believed she was doing it "for [her] ¦sake.  The irony is despite the fact that she's the one advocating the development of Jing-Mei's natural talent and "believe[s] you [can] be anyth