With an audible sigh of relief, the average American woman has left behind her housewifely image of the 1950s. But she continues searching for a new image. She has developed an ambitious, confident, aggressive concept of who she ought to be, yet she is painfully aware that this image is not really what she is after. She cannot let the world define her only in terms of her newly acquired aggressive, self-confident personality, cannot let the world ignore the genuinely feminine, caring, sensitive qualities she has long valued. But she has yet to bring together the two mutually divergent principles.

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What does an immigrant woman do when she joins this milieu, bringing her own cultural aesthetics, images, and goddesses? I am not sure if I would like to be absorbed in the new nameless soup, losing my original flavor. Nor do I want to resist assimilation and live in an island of my own.