Acclaimed biochemist Dr. Marlene Belfort has something to say to the next generation.
The child of immigrant parents who escaped Hitler’s regime, she recounts growing up in South Africa during apartheid, losing her father to suicide, and trying to make sense of an insensible world.
To young scientists, Dr. Belfort concedes to “muddling through” during her career, learning to be at ease with uncertainty and embracing ambiguity.
To parents, she cites her own experience as a working mother as evidence that the very activities that we fear will damage children often do the opposite, building their resilience and lifelong connections.
To those suffering from depression, she poignantly describes her own illness and recovery, offering hope and inspiration.
Mommy, Can Boys Also Be Doctors? explores walking the tightrope of balancing the personal and professional. It frankly discusses the human struggle to deal with discrimination, depression, and loss. And it celebrates the joy of living a rich, fulfilling life. Letting go is liberating!
Marlene Belfort’s Mommy, Can Boys Also Be Doctors? is a memoir as layered as the life it chronicles. At once deeply personal and sweeping in scope, it traces the author’s journey from a girl growing up in apartheid South Africa to a pioneering molecular biologist in the U.S. The book is divided into five thematic sections, each tackling different life chapters—from her immigrant upbringing and the devastating loss of her father to her rise in science, balancing motherhood, coping with depression, and reflecting on aging. Belfort writes with unflinching honesty, sharing hard-won lessons and posing tough questions about resilience, ambition, gender equity, and the messy but beautiful reality of being human.
What struck me most about this memoir was how real it felt. Belfort walks us through tragedy with grace—her father's suicide, her battles with depression, the push-pull of ambition and parenting—without ever wallowing. Her prose has a kind of raw elegance to it. You feel her warmth and intellect, her insecurities and boldness. She calls things what they are, even when they’re ugly. There were passages that made me laugh and others that left me aching. Her reflections on scientific ambition and gender bias hit hard, especially the contradiction of being celebrated professionally and doubted personally. She talks about the guilt, the exhaustion, and the benign neglect of parenting with honesty that’s rare and needed.
There’s also an unexpected charm to the writing. Belfort's tone is smart and vulnerable without being sentimental. She’s both a scientist and a storyteller and that dual-lens makes for something really special. The book bounces between continents, decades, and disciplines with a rhythm that kept me engaged. Her love story with her husband Georges, whom she met as a teen, is a quiet backbone throughout, and their lifelong partnership feels like a rebellion in its own right. But this book isn’t just about her life. It’s about the lives she’s touched, the systems she’s challenged, and the next generation she’s talking to. It feels like a letter, a warning, and a gift, all at once.
Belfort's memoir is for anyone who has ever felt like an outsider, who has chased meaning in both career and family or who’s been caught between survival and growth. It’s especially for young scientists, women in academia, and anyone juggling big dreams with real-life mess. It’s not a self-help book, and it’s not a typical memoir—it’s something braver and harder to define. And that’s what makes it powerful. I recommend it without hesitation.
Marlene Belfort’s Mommy, Can Boys Also Be Doctors? is a heartfelt and honest memoir that really shows what it means to stay curious, persistent, and true to yourself—both in your career and your personal life. She takes readers through her story with warmth and openness, sharing what it was like to be a woman forging a path in science, and all the ups and downs that came with it.
One of the things I loved most about the book is how she takes you through the many phases of her life—from her childhood in South Africa to her career in molecular biology, and everything in between. Her journey isn’t just about professional milestones, but about the emotional and personal growth along the way. She talks honestly about the struggles—things like career setbacks, gender bias, and self-doubt—but instead of hiding them, she embraces them. Those moments, even the tough ones, are part of what made her story so powerful.
What stood out to me was how deeply she cares about both her work and her family. She doesn’t pretend it was easy to do both, but she shows that it’s possible—and that one can actually fuel the other. Her reflections on motherhood, love, and purpose are thoughtful and real. She doesn’t sugarcoat the sacrifices, but she also celebrates the joy and meaning that came from living fully in both worlds.
This book isn’t just for scientists or people in academia—it’s for anyone wondering if they can really go after their dreams and still have a full life. Marlene’s story is proof that you can, even if the road isn’t always straightforward. Her honesty, wisdom, and humor make this book feel like a conversation with someone who’s been through it and come out the other side with a lot to share.
In the end, it’s a beautiful reminder that what we build—whether it’s a career, a family, or both—is what truly matters.