Keke Palmer Dissects ‘Just Keke’ Visual Album and Why She’s Found It ‘So Hard Being a Person and a Product’

Keke Palmer, the quintessential millennial multihyphenate, has played nearly every role the mind can generate. A box office queen who can lead films alongside Oscar winners (2022’s Nope with Daniel Kaluuya) and pop stars (2025’s One of Them Days with SZA), an iconic child star with her own talk show, an Emmy-winning game show host, a Billboard charting singer-songwriter, founder of her own online entertainment content platform (KeyTV), and even a Broadway diva.  

For two decades, Palmer didn’t just entertain the masses; she provided a sterling example for adolescent Black audiences in an era in which there were few. Her starring turn in Akeelah and the Bee (in which she plays a young girl competing in the Scripps National Spelling Bee), for example, remains her most beloved and notable role in Black households for 19 years and counting. 

“I have done so much work to make sure that I’m giving my audience my very best, and I’ve also had a hard time being a performer at such a young age and protecting myself through performance,” she tells Billboard of her history in the spotlight, while she’s in the middle of a glam session. She’s nearing the end of a weeklong New York promotional run supporting her new Just Keke visual album, and on Juneteenth 2025 (June 19), she’s doing everything but resting. “It’s been so hard to manage being a person and being a product.”

But one unexpectedly controversial dance pushed her into a role she rarely assumed in the public eye: herself. In July 2023, Palmer made national headlines when she attended Usher’s My Way Las Vegas residency, where the Grammy-winning R&B legend serenaded her with “There Goes My Baby” and a cheeky-yet-respectful dance. When footage hit social media, Darius Jackson — Palmer’s ex-boyfriend and the father of their son Leodis — publicly lambasted her choice of dress (a sheer number with a bodysuit underneath), writing on X: “It’s the outfit tho… you a mom.” 

What unraveled next was a public exposé of alleged domestic violence incidents that culminated in a November 2023 hearing, in which a judge granted Palmer’s requests for a temporary restraining order against Jackson, as well as temporary sole custody of their son. By May 2024, Palmer dropped the requests, and the domestic violence restraining order hearing was canceled; she and Jackson have since reached a place where they can co-parent their son together. 

While her Nickelodeon and Disney peers have seemingly all had at least one major scandal to their names (ranging from incessant twerking and licking unpurchased donuts to near-fatal overdoses), Palmer’s celebrity was, in part, defined by her lack of verifiable scandals. In fact, on social media, her nickname was – and continues to be – Keke “Keep a Job/Bag” Palmer, a tribute to her enviable work ethic and seemingly endless arsenal of talents. From the film roles she chose to her generally affable demeanor, Palmer played the historically difficult role of Black child star-turned-adult entertainer almost perfectly. Until one fateful night (where she wasn’t even acting out of character in the slightest) blew it all up — and social media inundated her with myopic takes on her personal life that ranged from violently misogynistic to harmful respectability politics. 

“For someone to weaponize your audience against you, it was very heartbreaking,” she reflects, betraying her hairstylist to look me in the eye. “My life isn’t a joke. There’s a lot of s–t I joke about, but I don’t joke about my life. I don’t want to confuse [people and have them] think that this is what we do over here. Let’s not joke about families falling apart. That’s not funny to me.” 

While other entertainers may have taken some time out of the public eye, Palmer continued with her fifty ‘leven commitments. But in between filming Boots Riley’s upcoming I Love Boosters film, forming her DivaGurl girl group (with Sadé and LaShay), and raising her new baby boy, Palmer somehow found the time to link with Grammy-nominated, Hot 100-topping singer-songwriter Tayla Parx and funnel her whirlwind of emotions into her third studio album. When the two former True Jackson VP co-stars linked in Atlanta at the top of the year to begin the songwriting process, they left “Keke” and “Tayla” at the door, in favor of Lauren and Taylor (their birth names), respectively.  

“Honestly, [sessions] looked like hanging out and talking with your best friend [who] also happens to be an extraordinarily talented and skilled songwriter,” Palmer explains as a smile creeps across her face. “I’m doing what’s normal to me, but she’s doing what nobody I’ve ever worked with has done, which is be able to create the stage for me to say things that I didn’t even know I could say and help align it with the energy the record needs.” 

As the pen behind era-defining smashes like fellow Nickelodeon alum Ariana Grande’s “7 Rings,” Parx knows how to craft a song that will conquer the charts and/or awards season. But that wasn’t the goal for the Just Keke sessions. Parx’s ability to tease out Palmer’s most closely guarded truths gave way to the most confessional music of the Emmy-winner’s career. Album opener “Off Script” addresses her life veering away from the blueprint she chose for herself as self-described “Type A” person (“Even when I let you get me pregnant/ Oh shit, how else can I prove it?”); “My Confession” flips Usher’s “Confessions, Pt. II” into a play-by-play of her relationship’s demise, and “Ripples” displays her family’s collective growth in the face of emotional turmoil. When she sings, “Got me on some viral shit, scandalous/ Call the lawyers, handle it/ The money’s the last thing we was worried ’bout/ The truth is we both was fighting for our child,” her tone is equal parts desperate and resentful, a testament to the intricacy of her vocal performance throughout the album.

There are also the standout cuts: “I Wanna Know,” a Brandy-esque track that explores voyeurism and betrayal (complete with meticulously placed ad-libs), and “Tea, Boo,” a campy, Slick Rick-meets-RuPaul track that finds Palmer giving her best Lady Whistledown impression. She says the latter is Baby Leo’s favorite song on the album. 

Building on the smooth R&B of her 2016 fan-favorite Lauren EP, Just Keke finds its narrative anchor in spoken word interludes that emphasize the album’s overarching variety show concept. Her most vocally impressive — she’s always been an adept singer, but here she gets closer than ever to finding her most flattering sonic and melodic pockets — and aesthetically ambitious musical offering yet, Just Keke is an unmistakable turning point in Palmer’s recording career, one part of her portfolio that has notably lagged behind the others. 

“I think what is comparable [about Just Keke] is the truth that we hear when we think of artists like Brandy and Mary J. Blige and Whitney Houston. I was tapped into life experiences that bring you to a deeper truth; it’s a lot of me growing up,” she says. “Because the lyrics are so true to me, I was able to sing them like I would [speak] them. That’s why I think [this album] has my best vocal performances. There’s now a different level of depth that I’m carrying after I evolved as a person.” 

Named after her 2014 talk show (which made her the youngest talk show host in TV history at just 20), Just Keke arrived on June 20 via Palmer’s own Big Bosses Entertainment label, alongside a 30-minute, self-funded short film. A visual album in the vein of Beyoncé’s Lemonade and Black Is King, the short film brings the album’s variety show concept to life, featuring cameos from Issa Rae and nods to classic women’s television shows, including Insecure, Lizzie McGuire, Moesha, and Sex and the City. Not only does Palmer incorporate her hosting, singing and acting prowess, she also flaunts her dance skills, tackling everything from breakdancing to praise dancing. Her mother, Sharon Palmer, also serves as an executive producer on the film, underscoring how the Just Keke project has helped strengthen and deepen her family’s connection. By playing host, lead actress and spectator in her own semi-autobiographical visual album, Palmer finally lays bare her story on her own terms — and she unlocked new levels of her artistry in the process. 

“[The film] is about the boundaries that I’m setting and the reclamation of my narrative and my parasocial relationship with my audience,” Palmer says. “Loving deeply is important, but loving that deep with boundaries is even more important. I needed to learn that in life, not even just on a romantic level.” 

On this uncharacteristically rainy Juneteenth Thursday, the theme of reclamation feels particularly apt. Throughout the 36 hours or so that I’ve spent with Palmer, she’s aware of every last detail around her, but there’s an unmistakable ease to her energy that wasn’t always there from afar. She feels free, and that freedom oozes out of every note she sings and every kiss she blows. 

“I feel so free to be living in my truth and to be able to speak on my story without concern,” she gushes. “That’s the thing about Akeelah and the Bee on a deeper level. I think we all loved that movie – and my mom wanted me to do it – because we loved seeing a little girl be able to articulate herself and express how she feels about the world and the people in her life and community. That’s something that’s been very much kept from our community. So for me to be able to express the nuances of anger, grief and sorrow — but also share my love and joy — it feels very freeing.”