Lance Phillips • April 15, 2025
Can I get a witness? It’s a question we’ve all heard at some point in our lives. Maybe in a religious service, maybe at a political rally, maybe at a talk when the speaker is looking for some kind of vocal affirmation to what they’ve just said. What is it about “witness,” and asking for it, that is so evocative? What is the secret power of asking for and receiving corroboration of an emotional state? I think it’s a simple act of reaffirmation. It’s taking a moment to connect to another human about the fact that we’re all human, despite having different outlooks on the world. It’s verification that we’re not alone in an experience, and by extension it’s evidence that we can work together to achieve those goals that benefit us all.
Think about a time you’ve seen a funny scene, or an absurd interaction, or a tragic situation; often, our first response is, “did you see that?” Even in those moments when we’re pulled out of ourselves we instinctively look for grounding in a shared common experience. We look for a witness because a witness means we’re not alone; it means we have power, too.
When Marvin Gaye sings “Can I Get a Witness” in 1964, is he singing about the yearning for the love of a woman? Yes, but he’s challenging his audience to witness what is happening in the U S of A in 1964. He wants a witness to his experience as a Black man just as the Civil Rights movement is entering the mainstream (that is as it is being recognized and, hesitantly, accepted by “White America”). His lyrics are exploiting a trope, boy wants girl, to tell a deeper story, boy wants justice, and he’s asking for those listening to witness his subtext. Without turning this blogpost into a linguistic analysis of how disenfranchised language always operates on at least two levels, suffice it to say that sometimes you and the person beside you, who may not look like you, are nodding your heads to the music for different reasons.
This past week I was tasked with introducing the nationally-known poet Terrance Hayes to an audience ranging from high school juniors to college administrators. I chose to focus on the act of Witness. I had everyone in the theater close their eyes and think of their favorite artist (musician, writer, dancer, actor, etc.). I told them to imagine the emotional connection that artist holds for them. I told them that that connection is Witness, and that there is nothing more powerful than Witness, and that poetry is Witness.
In the past two weeks, I had the privilege of seeing a presentation by the fabulous Professor of Language, Culture, and Justice in Education Dr. April Baker-Bell, too. Her book Linguistic Justice makes the case for, among other things, witnessing that linguistic ways of being in the world that do not conform to “standardized” English are no less languages, that the language of the disenfranchised often operates in at least two different ways simultaneously (just like the Gaye song above), and that witnessing both the explicitly said and the implicitly said in language amounts to witnessing that language.
So, what does all this mean? It means seeking affirmation from your people is the most human thing in the world. It means being a witness for those around you and asking them to be a witness for you helps forge strong bonds, even among those who may not agree about everything. It means witnessing both what is said and what is said is essential for understanding the experience we all are having at any given moment.
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