Ann Bulkley defied 19th-century gender barriers by disguising herself as Dr. James Barry
Became the first women to earn a medical degree and a respected British Army surgeon.
Her true identity was revealed only after her death in 1865
In the early nineteenth century, women were forbidden from studying medicine or practicing as doctors in the British Empire. But one remarkable woman, Margaret Ann Bulkley, defied all societal expectations by disguising herself as a man for nearly five decades to pursue a career in medicine. Under the name Dr. James Barry, she became one of the most respected surgeons of her time—performing ground-breaking procedures, advocating for public health reforms, and rising to one of the highest ranks in the British Army Medical Service. Her true identity remained a secret until her death in 1865, shocking the world and forever changing the narrative about women in medicine.
Margaret Ann Bulkley was born around 1789 in Cork, Ireland, to Mary-Ann Bulkley and Jeremiah Bulkley, a grocer and minor government official. The family faced financial hardship after her father abandoned them following a disastrous arranged marriage involving her brother. Despite these struggles, Margaret displayed exceptional intelligence and ambition. In a period when girls were expected to marry young and remain in domestic roles, she dreamed of achieving more.
Margaret's life changed dramatically when she and her mother sought help from her uncle, James Barry, a renowned painter in London. Reaching out to her maternal relatives, Margaret wrote to her uncle explaining their dire circumstances, and after several exchanges, the two moved to London, where they stayed for many years. There, her uncle introduced her to influential figures, including physician Edward Fryer and Venezuelan general Francisco de Miranda, who became her mentors and helped her prepare for medical school.
Not long after these introductions, her uncle passed away from unrecorded causes. Over the next two years, Fryer and Miranda continued to support Margaret’s education. Impressed by her academic brilliance, Miranda suggested she should pursue medical school—despite women being barred from doing so at the time. With their encouragement, Margaret disguised herself as a man to gain admission to a medical school, with the hope of later practicing medicine in an independent Venezuela where women might have more opportunities.
In 1809, Margaret assumed the name of her late uncle, James Barry. She cut her hair short, wore an overcoat to conceal her figure, padded her shoulders with towels, donned heeled boots to appear taller, and lied about her age to account for her voice and appearance, enabling her to pass as a young man. She then enrolled in the University of Edinburgh Medical School. Her small stature, smooth face, and high-pitched voice drew suspicion, leading many to believe she was a child prodigy. When authorities tried to bar Barry from sitting for exams due to presumed youth, Lord Erskine intervened, ensuring she was allowed to proceed.
In 1812, James Barry graduated with a medical degree, becoming one of the first women in history—though secretly—to qualify as a doctor in Britain, almost 50 years before women were officially permitted to enroll in medical school.
Following graduation, Barry apprenticed for six months at St Thomas’s Hospital in London before joining the British Army in 1813, initially as a hospital assistant and later as an assistant surgeon. The military provided a broad platform to practice medicine—albeit with the constant risk of exposure. Barry served during the Battle of Waterloo in 1815 and was later posted to Cape Town, South Africa, where her career reached historic milestones.
On 26 July 1826, Barry performed one of the first recorded caesarean sections in South Africa in which both the mother and child survived—a remarkable feat in an era before anaesthesia and antiseptic procedures. The baby boy was later named James in the doctor’s honour. This operation established Barry as a highly skilled surgeon, decades ahead of her time.
Rather than focusing solely on treating illness, Barry was deeply invested in advocating for public health. She championed better sanitation and clean water systems to prevent disease. During her ten-year stay in Cape Town, she worked to ensure fair medical treatment for all, including enslaved people and the poor. She also improved diets and living conditions for soldiers, prisoners, and asylum patients. Barry’s commitment to preventive healthcare and sanitation marked her as an early pioneer of public health medicine.
Barry’s reputation grew across the British Empire, with postings in Mauritius, Jamaica, St. Helena, Trinidad and Tobago, and Canada. Known for her brilliance and often fiery temper, Barry clashed with superiors—including the legendary Florence Nightingale, who described Barry as “the most hardened creature I ever met.” Her temper, duels, and assertive behaviour may have served as strategies to reinforce her masculine identity in a male-dominated field.
Despite frequent controversies, Barry’s achievements were undeniable. She rose to become Inspector General of Military Hospitals—equivalent to the rank of Brigadier General—overseeing medical care for soldiers across the British Empire. In this role, she continued to advocate for sanitation, better food, and proper medical care for soldiers, prisoners, lepers, and their families.
In 1859, Barry’s health declined due to bronchitis, forcing her to retire from military service. Six years later, on July 25, 1865, Barry died of dysentery in London. Her last wish was to be buried in the clothes she died in and not be examined—an attempt to protect her secret. However, her wishes were not honoured.
When a nurse prepared Barry’s body for burial, she discovered female anatomy and stretch marks—evidence of a past pregnancy. The secret became public after an exchange of letters between the General Register Office and Barry’s physician, Major D. R. McKinnon, was leaked. In these letters, McKinnon, who had signed the death certificate, stated it was “none of my business” whether Dr. James Barry was male or female—a sentiment Barry herself would likely have shared.
The revelation stunned Britain. One of its most respected army surgeons and medical pioneers had been a woman in disguise. The British Army and the Royal College of Surgeons suppressed the information for nearly a century, embarrassed that a woman had so thoroughly defied—and disproved—the belief that only men could succeed in medicine. Barry’s military records were sealed until 1950, when historian Isobel Rae uncovered the truth. In 2016, the biography James Barry: A Woman Ahead of Her Time offered further archival insights into her extraordinary life.
Margaret Ann Bulkley, known to the world as Dr. James Barry. She became the first (although secretly) British woman to earn a medical degree (1812). Performed the first successful cesarean section in the British Empire in which both mother and child survived. Rose to become Inspector General of Military Hospitals, the highest medical rank in the British Army. Championed sanitation, public health reforms, and humane treatment of soldiers, prisoners, and marginalized groups. Became a member of the Royal College of Surgeons of England nearly a century before women were officially admitted
Barry’s grave in Kensal Green Cemetery, London, bears the inscription:
“Dr. James Barry, Inspector General of Hospitals, Died 26 July 1865, Aged 70 Years.”
Dr. James Barry’s story is one of courage, sacrifice, and relentless pursuit of a dream in defiance of oppressive societal norms. Forced to live in disguise for nearly 50 years, Margaret Ann Bulkley not only carved out a place in medicine but also proved that skill and intellect knows no gender. Though her true identity was revealed only after her death, her legacy endures as an inspiration to generations of women in medicine and beyond—a pioneer far ahead of her time. [Rh/VP]