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.

Pages: 243 | ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0F43DHBD1