Did you do research in college?

Yes. I knew research experience was important, so for my first month on campus, I went door to door asking faculty for research opportunities. I got hired to work on a pig farm. It’s funny because I don’t eat pork, but I was studying whether a change in the pigs’ diet altered the taste of their meat.

At the time, I was flirting with the idea of becoming a veterinarian. So in my sophomore year, I worked in veterinary hospitals, spaying, neutering and cleaning animals. That’s when I realized that the thrill I felt as a kid with science wasn’t there. I wasn’t in love with that work.

But between junior and senior year, I worked in a molecular biology lab at the University of Pennsylvania, and a lightbulb went off. I thought, “Wow, people get paid to think about big ideas and try to find solutions to problems with importance to human health.” I remember telling my parents, “This is it. I want to get a Ph.D. in molecular biology.”

What led you to study pleasure and pain?

It was a bit of a winding road. I got my Ph.D. at the University of Pennsylvania studying a molecular pathway in roundworms that’s involved in cellular development. The genes for the proteins in this pathway are mutated in at least 30% of human cancers. My work demonstrated how these pathways control the basic type and shape of a cell. I was the first in that lab to study that pathway, so I had to build a lot of tools from scratch. That’s been a theme throughout my career: I like charting new courses.

And the next course you charted took you to neuroscience. Why?

Neuroscience seemed to be in its golden age. People from various disciplines were coming together to study the brain, yet it seemed like there were still more questions than answers, so there was space for me to make an impact. I moved into sensory neuroscience in part because of its logical simplicity: Receptors in the skin become activated, and then you somehow get perception in the brain after a series of relays. Of the sensory systems, touch is the least studied. Some of the big questions are still open.

How did you make up for your lack of knowledge?

At first, I was insecure about my lack of formal training. As a postdoc I had never taken a neuroscience class. At meetings and in conversations with neuroscientists, I often found I couldn’t keep up. I didn’t know the lingo. But I had been meeting regularly with Michael Nusbaum, the director of biomedical research at Penn, after asking him to mentor me. One day in his office, he suggested he tutor me in neuroscience. For two hours a week for over a year, we’d discuss neuroscience papers, starting back in the 1970s and 1980s. I learned neuroscience that way. It emboldened me to say, “OK, I am a neuroscientist.”

I’m African American. Mikey Nusbaum is a white Jewish man from New York City. Sometimes the people in life who support you the most may not have any direct connection to you and your culture.