Trouble with the hero.

https://spitalfieldslife.com/2014/11/25/jack-london-photographer/

Spitalfields was one of the worst slums in London. This was where my 4x great grandmother was born and bred. Poverty, grime, and the struggle to survive did not build soft-hearted characters. The more I delve into Mary's life in Tasmania the more I come to realise she may not have been the nicest person off the ship.

She was used to drinking to excess, and with that came a combative attitude. I admit I held a romantic view of her, a sort of angel from the dustbin. A sort of noble savage who against all odds survived and thrived.

She survived but she did not surrender or change her habits. In some ways it was like, to know no other life, no education, no books, no time to reflect or question. What is left? A visceral life, always searching for an opportunity to escape the sense of being "put upon", of being the lowest caste in society. Perhaps there is little difference between her life then and those living hand to mouth in any society. Today drugs are used to dull the sense of being cast aside, of being on the outer.

At this point in time, I am disappointed in myself more than Mary. I wanted her to be a hero. She still is, but not the one I wanted to make her.

My goddess has feet of clay.