One thing is for sure: David Johnson knows Jay-Z. But does Jay know him?
Image by OLIVIA HARRIS / Reuters
David Johnson tells Jay-Z everything.
He emails the superstar about his family, his career, and his ambitions. He sends messages about his kids written as if to an uncle. He sends what could be read as either op-eds or diary entries, depending on the context; sent from and to a personal email address, they assume a confessional tone. He sends lyrics, poems and songs, written from both his perspective and Jay's. He sends photos and videos, tossed-off notes and page-long manifestos.
Most significantly, Johnson questions Jay-Z about his place in life, in society, and in black culture with startling confidence. Sometimes it reads like a frank mogul-to-mogul talk: "I hate to say 'I told you so' but I told you so," Johnson wrote to Jay in July 2010, just after Lebron James famously announced his intentions to play for Miami, rather than the rapper's own Nets. "Lebron has an ego and wants to be his own man," he explained, "he doesn't want to be in your shadow." Other times, it's an impassioned appeal from a concerned peer. "Make a real difference," Johnson demanded at the end of another message sent two years later. "Give like Martin and Fight like Malcolm. Black kids are your kids. Don't forget that Jay."
From Johnson to Jay, July 2010
Race is of particular interest to Johnson, and a recurring subject in his emails. Over the phone, Johnson emphasized his belief that, as a public figure, Jay has extraordinary responsibilities as a role model — as does his family. "Beyonce is one of the most beautiful women on the planet," he told me, "and I try to express to [Jay], her hair is blonde. How do you expect to make people love themselves, love the hair they have?"
Since March 2010, Johnson has sent at least 262 emails to one of the biggest stars in the world, compiling an incidental diary in the process. He hasn’t received a single reply.
If he weren't sure his messages were being seen, Johnson probably would have stopped sending them a long time ago. But he's confident that not only is Jay-Z opening the emails — he's also reading them. And it's possible he's right.
***
Johnson, 27, lives in Davis, California with his wife and two kids. He has written extensively about his experience growing up as one of “the only black people” in his peer group, through poverty and domestic instability (he moved over a dozen times as a child). He played basketball in school with the hope of making it his career. Eventually, he settled into a counselor’s job at a local junior high, and coached basketball at another; his wife had started a photography business. When his job was eliminated due to budget cuts, he took the opportunity to start writing. He formed a company and started self-publishing. It was Johnson the writer — specifically, at the time, a memoirist — that started writing to Jay-Z.
"If someone says it's weird or creepy, I say they're not trying hard enough in life," Johnson told me over the phone. He understands how it all looks — the years of emailing, the personal tone of the messages, the fact that he sends from his wife's email address — but it doesn't bother him. "The reason why you think it's creepy is because you've never suffered before."
Johnson's approach to Jay-Z, it turns out, is an expression of a philosophy he's been living by for years. In 2009, the New York Times published a story about his attempt to play professional basketball. Despite not being in, or even close, to any traditional NBA recruitment channels, a combination of intense training and breathtakingly brazen self-promotion got him an audience. “Everybody within the N.B.A. family knows who he is,” the president for basketball operations for the Dallas Mavericks told the Times.
