My name is Irene Yao, and at the time of writing, I’m heading into my final semester at 鶹, majoring in Political Science with minors in Psychology and Field Study focused on environmental sustainability. Over the past few years, I’ve become increasingly interested in how law, politics, and culture intersect—not just in the abstract, but in people’s everyday lives. This program gave me the chance to explore those intersections more deeply through a self-directed research project in Shantou, China, supported by Professor Juan Wang.
My project focused on legal pluralism in the Chaoshan region, specifically how clan rules interact with formal legal norms. Alongside the academic side, this was also a personal journey. I’m a second-generation Chinese immigrant, born and raised in Gatineau, Québec, and part of my goal was to reconnect with my roots—to not only ask questions about governance and law, but also, for myself, about identity, belonging, and what it means to study politics across cultures during this trip.
I’d say I met those goals. Some of the most meaningful insights came from texts and archives—but just as many came from conversations, unanswered questions, and disorienting moments that reminded me I was in a space where my default assumptions didn’t always apply (though they rarely do anywhere, really).
Of course, there were challenges. Language, for one. I’m fluent in spoken Mandarin, but trying to express academic ideas or read stylized traditional characters on book covers or plaques sometimes pushed me beyond my limits—and even those of technology. Translator apps weren’t always accurate or efficient, and I often had to ask for help with things that seemed small—like ordering food or reading pharmacy labels—but reminded me of the gaps between spoken fluency and full cultural literacy.
Another challenge was navigating the academic system. At 鶹, I’m used to huge online databases and knowing exactly where to find credible sources. In Shantou, I had to recalibrate. I had no idea what their equivalent of the 鶹 Library was, and some sources were embedded in legal, cultural, or linguistic frameworks unfamiliar to me. Others I’d used while writing my proposal weren’t accessible from our location. But thanks to STU students, Professors Sun and Mu, and the Li Ka Shing team, I learned how to ask for help and find new ways forward.
Time management was another adjustment. Research students have a lot of freedom, and balancing academic work with cultural activities, weekend trips, and spontaneous plans wasn’t easy. I wanted to make the most of being in China, but also wanted to do my work with care. That balance was hard, but important.
Then there was the personal challenge of sitting with discomfort—cultural, emotional, sometimes ethical. I had to be thoughtful in how I asked questions—not just for safety, but out of respect. I learned that cross-cultural research isn’t just about collecting data. It’s about listening, being careful with your assumptions, and letting go of control.
There were so many highlights. One of my favorites was meeting STU professors who guided my research, even spending hours with me in the Chaoshan special collection, helping me find sources and reframe my focus. While annotating clan rules, I began forming hypotheses about how these traditions might shape local culture, especially around gender and age hierarchies. Seeing that emerge in the material was rewarding and exciting.
Outside of research, the hospitality we received was incredible—from the welcome ceremony to the daily support staff to our tutors who helped us navigate the city and figure things out. The food, too, deserves its own paragraph—so diverse, so rich. Some meals tasted like my dad’s home cooking; others were completely new. Chinese cuisine is a world of its own.
And the people. The friendships I formed—both with our cohort and the local tutors—are unforgettable. In the last three days of the trip, someone was always tearing up: during meals, on the bus, or when someone said, “remember when…”. Saying goodbye was harder than I expected. We shared so many hours—working, learning, exploring, laughing—that the idea of returning to separate lives felt unreal.
The LKS Shantou trip was one of the best experiences of my life, and I don’t say that lightly. I’m extremely grateful to everyone who contributed to making it happen.
