The author seems like he was such an inspiring man. Having grown up as a girl, he had a deep understanding of the struggles women face in science and used his newfound privilege after transitioning to speak up and advocate for and empower women in order to increase equality in the scientific world and beyond. As a queer scientist I would have loved to have gotten the chance to talk to him. The book is pretty short and I do wish that he had gone into a bit more detail about his life, especially surrounding his gender identity and childhood, but he did write it after getting a cancer diagnosis so I understand why. I enjoyed the style of these parts as it felt like he was having a conversation with you. I definitely feel like the introduction also contributes a lot to the impact the book has as it provides some more context (although I did feel a little sad while reading it as it did discuss his death. And at this point I didn't really know anything about him but the author of this segment did an incredible job building up the kind of person he was).

I will say that I think that most people will struggle with the segment that discusses his work - and it's a substantial chunk of the work. Neuroscience has quite a lot of technical terms and jargon and it reads a bit like a paper (although it doesn't go super in depth). I think that this part could have used an edit to make it more accessible to a wider audience. Don't get me wrong, is work is definitely interesting! I just feel like it' s not the easiest to grasp in its current form. ( )

Ben Barres was a groundbreaking scientist in neurobiology, and groundbreaking as a transgender person in science. This is his autobiography, completed shortly before his death from pancreatic cancer in 2017.

Barbara Barres, even as a very young child, had both a strong interest in science, and a strong sense of gender confusion and belief that she was assigned the wrong gender at birth. She was, she was sure, meant to be a boy. Unfortunately, in the 1950s and 1960s, there was no one and nothing to tell Barbara that yes, she really could be Ben.

She pursued mathematics and science, eventually getting a degree in biology from MIT, an MD from Dartmouth Medical School, and a Ph.D. in neuroscience from Harvard Medical School, pursing research in neurobiology rather than a career in medicine. Along the way, there were incidents where she was treated unfairly, such as when a mathematics professor told her she couldn't have solved that equation; her boyfriend must have. Yet she was slow to recognize this as perhaps being sexism rather than merely unfairness to her as an individual. Meanwhile, her gender confusion continued to trouble--and eventually, she learned she wasn't alone. Gender confusion was real, and transition was possible.

In this book, Ben Barres gives us both a fascinating account of his scientific research, and of his, or "her," struggles to get good mentorship and opportunities as a woman in science, his discovery that gender dysphoria is real and transition was possible, and finally his transition from Barbara to Ben. Despite his initial and quite reasonable fears, his colleagues, friends, and family supported him. His successful career continued, and he continued doing critical work until very near the end. That work included not just his own groundbreaking research on glial cells, but mentoring promising young scientists, especially women. Having transitioned, he had discovered, as few men can, how differently Ben was treated than Barbara was. This became a major concern of his, and he not only mentored women in his own lab, but worked to get the major institutions that provide funding so many young scientists depend on to examine and update their procedures to include qualified women, not just qualified men.

It's a fascinating and enjoyable account of a life in science.

I bought this audiobook. ( )

Potent short autobiography from a groundbreaking neuroscientist who mentored his trainees extraordinarily and also used his tenure and status to advocate for women and other minorities in science -- including tirelessly advocating for a non-sexual harassment clause for all NIH-funded conferences, which still has not yet happened (ostensibly for legal reasons).

I was mightily moved by his personal story, even though it's clear he was more comfortable reflecting and interrogating science than his own beliefs and motivations, and there's definitely some meat lurking beneath the surface there. I am deeply saddened that he died before I even knew of his existence. ( )