> ...the prickle of cotton stalks
> (which from my reading I understand could seriously lacerate the hands of
> the pickers), ...
 
That's not the half of it.  Each section of cotton (kind of like
sections of an orange, except there are only 4 or 5) is called a
"lock," and when you're picking, the idea is to get all the locks of
a boll at once.  There's a nasty, hard, sharp plant part between each
lock, and you use your whole hand, trying to get a finger (or thumb)
on each lock, give a little shake to the wrist, and pull out the
whole boll.  In addition to having your fingers continually stabbed,
the leaves and stalks are irritating (traditionally, people picking
cotton wore long sleeves if they could and tried to devise some
sort of glove arrangement that would give some sort of protection
while allowing them to feel and grab effectively).  My husband used to
work for the Cotton Lab here at the Univ. of Arkansas & I would tag
along sometimes to get weird and wonderful cotton for hand spinning--
brown and green as well as white.  I kind of like picking cotton, up
to a point--I was always aware that it was _my_ choice to do so, and
when the white cotton started getting pink (from my blood), it was
also _my_ choice to stop.
 
I agree--insights don't necessarily have a thing to do with race
or gender or national origin or religion or ... (fill in the blank).
 
(Incidentally, I was floored recently by a new patient form at my
doctor's that asked for--in this day and age?--race.  I thought about
it a while and opted for "mongrel.")
 
 Nan Lawler, Special Collections
University of Arkansas Libraries
Fayetteville, AR  72701-1201
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