Spinning Brown Cotton for the Fourth
It’s the Fourth of July. And instead of fireworks, I’m spinning cotton.
Not wool. Not a fleece. But something far older and far more native to this land — Acadian brown cotton.
This year, as Tour de Fleece kicks off, I find myself in a different frame of mind. I’ve been feeling more and more conflicted about what it means to celebrate this country. I love the land, the communities I’m part of, and the deep heritage woven into our cultures — but I also see the fractures, the injustice, and the stories that have been pushed aside.
So I decided to spin something honest. Something rooted. Something American in the truest sense.
A Cotton Older Than the Colonies
Most of us who spin start with wool — and for good reason. It’s springy, long-stapled, forgiving. But there are no sheep native to the Americas. Wool is an import. Cotton, on the other hand, has grown on this land for thousands of years. And not just the fluffy white kind we associate with mass production, but naturally pigmented varieties — browns, rusts, greens — cultivated by Indigenous peoples long before colonization.
Acadian brown cotton is one of those heirloom fibers. It’s short-stapled, earthy, and incredibly soft. It’s not easy to spin on a wheel, but it rewards patience and care. I first encountered it years ago during a tenure in Lafayette, Louisiana, where I had the honor of learning from people who are preserving this fiber tradition, including the remarkable Austin Clark.
Austin is a champion of brown cotton, and teaching others about its significance. His passion is deeply contagious, and his work helped me see this fiber not just as a material but as a living thread of culture.
A Legacy Preserved in the Shadows
At the time, I visited a stunning exhibition at the Hilliard Art Museum called Acadian Brown Cotton: The Fabric of Acadiana. It was a revelation. This wasn’t just a textile show — it was a record of survival. The Acadian families who planted this cotton in their gardens, spun it by hand, and wove it into garments and household textiles were keeping a history alive even as it was erased elsewhere.
When the global cotton industry industrialized, brown cotton was left behind. Its short staple didn’t suit the spinning machines of the 19th century. Instead, longer-stapled white cottons from India and Egypt were imported and bred for uniformity and scale. Brown cotton was too wild, too irregular — too human. And so it retreated into the corners of gardens, passed down in families, woven in silence.
Spinning as Witness
Now, on Gladys, my mini great wheel, I spin this cotton by hand. Slowly. Thoughtfully. I card it into rolls, draw it out with long arm motions, and let the twist carry history forward. It’s a kind of meditative rebellion — against erasure, against speed, against the idea that only what’s efficient is worth saving.
For me, this act is both spiritual and political. It’s how I mark this day — not with celebration, but with connection. To the land. To the past. To the stories too often ignored.
Tour de Fleece, With a Twist
Technically, this isn’t fleece. But I’m spinning it for Tour de Fleece anyway. In German, they call cotton Baumwolle — “tree wool.” That’s close enough for me.
If you’re interested in trying Acadian brown cotton yourself, I’ve included some links below. And if you’d like to see my spinning process in action, head over to my YouTube channel to watch the full video.
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