Everyone’s favorite cousin (ahem, Keke Palmer), has officially lost the plot y’all.
And before you come for me, I say this with love.
Whether you came to adore her from True Jackson VP or Akeelah and the Bee, our girl has been keeping us laughing and entertained for well over a decade. I loved watching her be unapologetically herself, whether that was through showing us her acne journey (because, same girl), giving us those spot-on Angela Bassett impersonations or blessing us with quotables like “sorry to this man” when she didn’t know who Dick Cheney was (also, same girl). She was [is] authentic, funny, relatable. But lately? I don’t know who this woman is anymore, and I’m starting to wonder if she knows either.
If you’ve never listened to her podcast, Baby, This is Keke Palmer, just know it’s traditionally Keke: relatable and funny. However, throughout the past year, she’s given a platform to Jonathan Majors (which she ultimately ended up shelving the episode after public backlash due to the fact that he was convicted in December 2023 of misdemeanor assault and harassment), Blueface (who has his own lengthy history of alleged abuse and was arrested and charged in connection with a Las Vegas shooting), and hosted Offset right in the middle of his very public and very messy divorce with Cardi B. And before you come for me saying “she’s just doing interviews,” let me be clear, just because you have a microphone and a platform doesn’t make you a journalist or respected host. Real interviews involve tough questions and accountability, and what Keke’s doing is something far different entirely. It feels like she wants her podcast to be a image rehabilitation service for men who haven’t earned it (and quite frankly, don’t deserve it, but hey, that’s not for me to decide).
Because, while yes, these men should be allowed to share their side of the story, why does Keke feel like she must be their knight in shining armor?
And unfortunately, this isn’t even new behavior. Remember when Keke came out defending R. Kelly on The Breakfast Club back in 2018 (note: she did later condemn his actions)? That was the first moment that gave me pause because, were we not all watching the same R. Kelly in Surviving R. Kelly? And quite frankly, we didn’t need a documentary to tell us what we’ve all known since the 90s. Black women were finally being believed, finally being heard, and Keke was telling us to separate art from the artist.
Baby girl. Read the room.
There’s something deeply troubling about watching a woman who has allegedly experienced abuse turn around and help abusers rehabilitate their images. And that cost? It’s her integrity and ultimately, her brand. It’s the trust that Black women, particularly those who have survived abuse, placed in her.
Because when she spoke out about her encounter with Trey Songz, where she said she locked herself in a closet during a music video shoot where she felt unsafe and did not consent to participating, we believed her. When she alleged abuse and filed for a domestic violence restraining order against her child’s father, Darius Jackson, we defended her then too. She knows firsthand what it’s like to be in that situation, to fear for your safety, to have to protect yourself and your child. She lived it. And yet she’s giving each of these men a platform to excuse their behaviors when their alleged behaviors mirror dynamics she has spoken about experiencing in her own life?
The math isn’t mathing.
Keke Palmer built her brand on being relatable, on being the homegirl, on being someone who got it. She was Cousin Keke, and we claimed her as family.
But this? Baby, this is not Keke Palmer.
Because at best, the interviews are surface level, the questions are basic, and it feels less like journalism and more like an opportunity for image rehabilitation from someone the Black community knows and loves (again, this is all said with love). It would be different if there was actually pushback, accountability or hard questions, but while we love her, our girl is no Gayle King.
Keke has always been talented. She can sing, act, host, and do comedy. But instead, the fact that she’s chosen to die on this hill is killing everything she built.
This is a great reminder to us all that your brand is your legacy and it’s what people remember about you when you’re gone. And right now, this moment risks becoming a defining chapter in how Keke Palmer’s platform is remembered. And one day soon, I believe she’s going to pay the cost of platforming these losers.
And sis, it’s on the wrong side of history.