From Jin Village to Global Stage: A Journey Toward Equity and Belonging

My name is Liuchao Jin. I was born in Jin Village, a remote farming village in eastern China where everyone shares the same family name—Jin (金). Legend says our ancestors were descendants of Emperor Liu Bang (劉邦) of the Han dynasty (202 BC–9 AD, 25–220 AD). Around 9 AD, during the political upheaval of the Xin Dynasty, one branch of the Liu (劉) clan fled south to escape persecution under the usurper Wang Mang. To avoid capture, they dropped the radicals “卯” and “刂” from the traditional “劉” and became “金”—a new family name for a new beginning in exile. That name has endured for nearly two thousand years—through dynastic changes, revolutions, and modernization—but in Jin Village, it became less a symbol of royal ancestry and more a quiet thread of survival passed down through generations.

Our village inherited that name, but not much else. When my grandfather was young, life was harsh. He grew rice and vegetables in poor soil, often unable to feed his family or keep them warm in winter. Desperate to survive, he began raising freshwater mussels, hoping they would yield pearls. It was just enough to get by. Later, he planted grapevines and mulberry trees to sell fruit, inching the family toward stability. In this environment of constant hardship, my parents came to believe deeply in one thing: that knowledge—not land, not luck—could change our future. Like the common stereotype many hold about Chinese parents, mine placed my education above all else. But for us, it wasn’t about pressure or perfection—it was about survival, dignity, and hope. My schooling was prioritized over everything else in our family, not as an option, but as a way out.

I grew up with that belief. Education wasn’t just encouraged—it was everything. For my family, it wasn’t about competing for prestige. It was about survival and dignity. I became the first person in my family to attend university, and that moment marked a turning point—not just for me, but for the generations before and after me.

My academic path has taken me far from our small Jin Village. I studied at the Sichuan University–Pittsburgh Institute (SCUPI), a Sino-U.S. joint program that gave me early exposure to English-medium education and international academic culture. From there, I continued my journey to The Chinese University of Hong Kong (CUHK) for postgraduate studies, and have since conducted research in institutions across China, Canada, and the United States—including McGill University, Westlake University, SUSTech, Shenzhen University, and Caltech.

As I moved through these diverse academic and cultural environments, I came to better understand both the possibilities and limitations that shape who gets to participate in science. I’ve experienced firsthand how language, resources, and social background can influence a student’s academic experience. I’ve also learned how deeply those early differences can persist, even in elite academic settings.

Throughout my journey, I’ve remained grounded by where I came from. I carry with me not only the skills I’ve gained, but also a perspective shaped by growing up far outside the centers of privilege. That perspective informs how I approach research, education, and collaboration. I believe that talent is everywhere, and that opening more doors—especially for those starting from behind—is essential to building a richer, more equitable academic world.