Imagine a disease that has claimed more lives throughout history than any other—a silent killer that still takes over a million lives each year. Tuberculosis (TB) is that relentless foe, and Bryan Bryson, an associate professor at MIT, is on a mission to outsmart it. But here’s where it gets controversial: while many researchers focus on developing new antibiotics, Bryson believes the real game-changer lies in understanding how our immune cells actually kill TB bacteria. Could this shift in focus be the key to a revolutionary vaccine? Let’s dive in.
Bryson’s journey began at MIT, where he initially grappled with choosing a major. With a family legacy in engineering—his great-grandfather worked on the Panama Canal, and his grandmother was a natural builder—he was drawn to the field. Yet, it was a summer internship that shaped his path. His mentor’s advice? ‘Study something that gives you options, because the world will change.’ This led him to mechanical engineering with a bioengineering focus, a decision that would later prove pivotal.
During his undergraduate years, Bryson worked with Linda Griffith, a professor of biological engineering, on microfluidic devices to grow liver tissue. This experience ignited his passion for both engineering and biology. He stayed at MIT for his PhD, studying cell signaling in diseases like cancer and diabetes. But it was his postdoctoral work with immunologist Sarah Fortune at Harvard that set the stage for his TB research. Fortune’s bold approach to solving TB—not just treating it, but transforming its impact—inspired Bryson to think bigger. ‘What’s the one thing that will change history?’ he asked himself. His answer? A better TB vaccine.
The current TB vaccine, BCG, is far from perfect. While widely used, it offers limited protection against pulmonary TB in adults. Bryson’s lab is tackling this head-on by focusing on measurement. ‘To make a better vaccine, we need to measure better,’ he explains. His team is identifying the specific TB proteins displayed by infected cells—proteins that could be the key to a universal vaccine. So far, they’ve pinpointed antigens in about 50% of the human population. Once they crack the remaining 50%, clinical trials could begin in as little as six years.
But here’s the part most people miss: TB is a personalized disease. The proteins displayed by infected cells vary depending on a person’s genetic background. This complexity is what makes TB so challenging—and why Bryson’s approach is so innovative. Is this the future of vaccine development, or are we overlooking simpler solutions? Let us know in the comments.
Beyond the lab, Bryson brings a unique flair to MIT. As an associate head of house at Simmons Hall, he’s known for his unconventional ice cream flavors—jalapeno strawberry, anyone?—made with a machine he’s had since 2009. ‘Toasted marshmallow was a hit, but it destroyed my kitchen,’ he laughs. It’s this blend of creativity and determination that drives his work, both in science and in life.
Bryson’s optimism, instilled by his mother who raised four children single-handedly, is contagious. ‘Why focus on failure when we can find reasons to continue?’ he asks. At MIT, he’s found a community that shares this ethos. ‘Engineers love a problem, and TB is a really hard problem,’ he says. But with Bryson leading the charge, there’s hope that this centuries-old scourge might finally meet its match. What do you think—is his approach the breakthrough TB needs? Share your thoughts below!
