It's been too long to leave: My Response about the John Mayer Controversy

May I start of by saying that John Mayer on "Storytellers" is a great piece to watch for any fans of his music (and it's great that he can still connect to his songs from Room for Squares and connect to material writing many a year ago). The stories are familiar, only because in an indirect way, they are my stories. They are the ones I share about my passion for writing, for film, for women, and for living life with a Belgian beer within arms reach. His thing is music, which I also love (who doesn't?), but the connection to him is because he speaks of things all guys go through when they allow themselves to get caught up in their own ego or when we are simply stomping around looking for love in another person. It's familiar alright, and being reminded of the things that make go from one day to the next is too important to let go of in an instance where it becomes hard to listen to anything that person says anymore.

I've been cringing at things John Mayer has said to reporters or in public since I first heard him play. He was terribly awkward in Tennessee when I went to go see him with my girlfriend at the time. She asked me to visit her at Vandy and check out an artist that she'd heard about that she was sure I'd like. There wasn't many things she was right about when concerning things I'd like or like to do, but hearing John was the best idea she ever had. At that little show in that bar I was in underage, John Mayer made some goofy bad jokes that actually made me think, "man, this guy is awkward." It hasn't stopped in the last ten years. And it's obvious that Mr. Mayer has sidestepped the act of sidestepping his celebrity status as he did early on in his career. Remember him after Room for Squares? We were still trying to understand this goofy-looking dude who sang about stuff goofy-looking dudes shouldn't really know about...should they? He was jumping on the Hot Girlfriends Train early on though; I believe he dated Jennifer Love Hewitt early on, but don't hold me to that because it's not worth researching. The point is that then, you felt like the hotties were going to line up because his lyrics were pretty and he was hot because of the musician thing and they were just banging him in hopes that he'd write his next "Your Body is a Wonderland" about them in particular. However, these days, he's open on Twitter about chicks and he comes off as a smug SOB. While always along the way trying to be the funny cool guy, he made some missteps about the racist dick thing.

I understand the nature of a joke going wrong wholly. As a man who thrills at making people laugh every single day (did I miss my calling at stand-up?), too often my jokes are misunderstood, with people thinking they're simply not funny or with people thinking of my joking insults as true insults. It happens too often, so instead of regressing into that cave of creative freedom with comedy, I instead try to top my missteps by coming up with something better that'll eventually get me to my goal of making you laugh. Mr. Mayer was trying to be funny and it was a huge misfire; the problem with Mr. Mayer and his celebrity status is that because he is who he is, he unfortunately had his bad joke published when in my case, I'd probably only have three people hear my bad joke. And the worst part of Johnny Boy's bad joke is that it had to be racial, which means that people who know I'm a JM fan immediately turn to me to see what I'm going to do. Am I going to march in the streets for a boycott? Am I going to hawk every John Mayer CD in the city and burn them all in a hateful blaze? Just what am I going to say?

Another statement of the obvious: I hang around several white folks. What can I say--you're the majority in this country. What you have to understand is that there's a reason my mother is so...particular, for lack of a better term, about me consorting out of the race. It's just simple fear of what's she experienced happening to me. I always thought of my mom as some old school Black Panther retiree who was spit on by white folks on the campus of Northwestern as a youth, someone who wouldn't be able to let go of some injustice that happened to her over 30 years ago. Eh, I was kinda off on my early analysis, but let's just say that she's seen things and has been a victim of some things that would make someone a little racially scarred. But I've never really felt that way because I've luckily never had to really live in the same world she and my father had to. And despite my mother's worries, I know several incredible people that wouldn't dare hurt me because of my black skin. However, that doesn't really change the fact that some people say things that I might deem offensive if I was sensitive. I'm not--Mom made sure my skin was thick by the time I grew up--but internally, I often raise an eyebrow at what I hear. I'm not a fan of the word, but it is simple ignorance that keeps us from realizing what hurts or not. I'm a victim of it but I'm also guilty of it more often than not. We all are, but the great thing about life is none of us can ever stop learning about each other. I believe John Mayer realizes this now that the public backlash has been so unfavorable and he can't really hide from it (especially in the midst of a world tour). Then again, he might continue on being ignorant and saying things that offend blacks or past girlfriends, maybe the handicapped next. Unfortunately, I have no control over that by ceasing to listen to his music.

Listening to his stories shared on "Storytellers" about how he crafted songs based on life is reminds me of me as a 16-year-old. Ten years ago, I came across another storyteller, a tall goofy-looking dude with a Supercuts haircut, who reminded me of how great life could be. At 16, I had everything ahead of me and there were several songs I knew John Mayer was going to write. I didn't know they were going to be "Clarity" or "I Don't Trust Myself" or "Heartbreak Warfare," but I was right about something in that dingy Nashville bar. And in a decade's time, that's a lot of bonding with songs that explain yourself better than you can on your Facebook page. Has it ever been easy to leave something behind you spent ten years with? For me, at my young age, not so much.

So I won't be in the front row of Mr. Mayer's next concert ready to spit at him in the name of defending the women of my race for a terrible remark. But that doesn't mean I'll necessarily be ready to shake his hand next time I see him either.