Acknowledgements: Handshakes at the Gate

Writing is an individual exercise. Nonetheless, this book could not exist without “strangers.” Over the past three years I approached hundreds of them at factory gates, in cafeterias, on electric bikes, behind market stalls, and along the narrow alleys of urban villages. Most said no. Some invited me to sit for a few minutes. A few let me follow them through years of work and worry, hopes and hardships. The last conversations constitute the heart of this book. They are gifts for someone who showed up with nothing but a pen, a notebook, and a few beverages to share. I am endlessly grateful for their time, their candor, their trust, and their courage that propelled private life to enter a public page.

I owe particular thanks to the eleven individuals whose voices went directly into this book. 

Thank you Xiao Mei for meeting me in that park across from the factory gate, for opening up to me about how you negotiated true love, filial duty, and financial burdens across time and distance. I was astonished to learn that you had memorized the exact distance from Shenzhen to her hometown: 273 kilometers.

Thank you Fu Xiong for letting me sit beside you on that bench while you smoked, for telling me about migrant parenthood, which affects nearly half of youngsters in China today. Thanks to your decision to bring her to the city in spite of financial strain, your daughter was not among the 67 million children left-behind.

Thank you Chen Shen for leaning out of that security booth, for tracing your past through factories and provinces. Your philosophy in opting to “lie flat” reminded me that the decision to stop racing could be a potent form of resistance to exploitation.

Thank you Auntie Liu for leading me to your home. You bought a moderate apartment in your hometown, yet you lived in a cramped urban-village room in Shenzhen while working to repay the mortgage.

Thank you Sister Man for walking me through the canteen and the dormitory yards that distinguish factory life from factory labor, for recalling the small incidents that too often become life-changing.

Uncle Liu and Auntie Hu, thank you for accepting my dinner invitation, for telling me how you built your family as the factory scaled its production.

The anonymous man I came to call the “Ginseng Man,” thank you for your “Northeasterners’ hospitality,” for the long ride and the slow revelations about itinerant life.

Li Mei, thank you for driving me through Shenzhen late at night, for speaking plainly about how you steered your life forward.

Zhu Qi, thank you for initiating our chat before I did, for sharing your insights about the city’s rise and fall as you navigated its roads for over two decades.

Uncle He, thank you for your persistence and courage in consulting the Service Center for the Disabled, for letting me witness a legal impasse that embodies broader socioeconomic issues.

Aunt Li, thank you for your tutelage as an experienced social worker, for showing me hope and despair among the city’s disabled individuals.

Each of you gave me patience, time, laughter, and understanding. You let me carry your words and your stories into a world that too often prefers not to hear them. I was humbled by your trust as I admired your willingness to speak.

The generosity—not just with words—of each of you ran through the book. You corrected me when I misheard, texted back to make clarifications, showed me photos and records, and invited me to share another beverage because the conversation deserved it. You taught me to be a more active listener and a more responsible witness.

I am grateful to the many gatekeepers and intermediaries who eased access along my journey. Security guards slid open their booths and told me the workers’ schedule. Canteen cooks allowed me to sit in a corner and try some food. Factory coworkers nudged their colleagues to join our conversation. This project stood on your small courtesies.

As part of this project, I pursued fieldwork and interviews that were not autobiographical in nature. They were sources of knowledge about the city and its policies. For that structural reading of Shenzhen and its migrant population, I am indebted to Runguang Wang and Xuewei Wu. Chairman of Dachancun Co., Ltd., Wang offered a granular view of how land is collectively managed by villagers through a shareholder system, as well as the system’s implications on rental housing. His recollections helped me situate the experience of living in urban villages within the context of geographic transformations. CEO of Yu’ercun Co., Ltd. and chairman of the Shekou Yu’er Industrial Co., Ltd., Xuewei Wu explained how farmers who lost land amid Shenzhen’s urban expansion opted to “grow buildings” to claim a share in the city’s real estate market. His account unveiled the contingencies that bred urban informality. Their candid perspectives about the trade-offs they weighed shaped my understanding of urban villages as living, contested places continually made and remade by landlords, tenants, and urban planners.

I am also grateful to Weidong Huang, whom I interviewed in March, 2025. Huang’s leadership position in the Urban Renewal Branch of the Urban Planning Society of China and his work with the Shenzhen Urban Planning and Design Institute meant that he could name neighborhoods reshaped by regulations and blueprints. A week later, Xuhui Zhu walked me through the evolution of the city’s approach to urban planning, from early stages of expansion to the future of renovation. With three decades of experience in urban planning, Zhu’s firsthand accounts included incisive observations on the intentions, trade-offs, and limits of municipal design. These interviews ground the book’s exploration of the making of modern Shenzhen.

I want to thank the social workers and volunteer lawyers at Shenzhen Comprehensive Service Center for the Disabled, who allowed me to volunteer and learn inside their offices. I witnessed how their professionalism and care in handling small, repetitive tasks translated into concrete, lifechanging improvements for visitors. In particular, I am honored to be given the opportunity to shadow and assist with three civil cases through the Center’s Legal Consultation Office, which unfroze and reclaimed over 400,000 RMB for clients. Their work reminded me that there is no short answer to claim-making and empowerment.

I am grateful to my teachers, who provided editorial guidance and sharpened my chapter titles. Big thanks to my friends, who read early drafts and returned useful notes.

To my parents: thank you. You offered rides at odd hours and tolerated late nights at the desk. Thank you for your firm, unconditional support that let me become a listener.

To everyone who spoke, who corrected, who read, who helped me see this project through in small, steady steps—thank you. Collectively, you changed not only what I write, but how I think when writing about cities and those who make them.