I don't know about other gardeners, but the ones I watch on TV don't use gardening gloves. In fact, the folks on Ground Force disdain the use of gloves, for whatever reason. So I tried it. I tried getting in touch with the earth, being one with the soil, feeling part of something greater than myself.
Then I went back to the gloves. It wasn't getting my hands dirty that bothered me. It's the fact that everything I touch mangles my hands. They bleed all over everything, and then what have we gained? I have scratches that keep me from more physical labor, and scars that stick around for a while.
Even after a vigorous gardening session with the gloves on, I can feel it. It's like hundreds of pinpricks, and it takes hours to go away. I don't know why I have this curse, but it's been a fact of life. I get a lot of paper cuts, just doing my job. I haven't always remembered that I have the problem, and there are times when for the sake of "pitching in" and being part of a group I've ignored it. I paid for it later, but it must have been worth it.
Over the years I've broken bones in the little fingers on both hands, one of them more than once. I have the same problem with my feet, which is why I rarely went barefoot as a kid and rarely do now. I still have a mangled toenail from a wood-gathering mishap at Shasta Lake several years ago. I'm reminded every time I clip my nails, but the memory of the pain is enough to keep me mindful. I take great care not to drop any more logs on my toes.
I don't consider myself a fragile person. I know I don't have a lot of strength for manual labor, but I can hold my own in most situations. Why my hands and feet crumble under stress as if they were made of rice paper is a mystery. It's not a huge problem, just something I have to deal with. And I do. (In this case, I'm dealing by using it as a journal topic.)