K
eke Palmer is more than her many, many jobs. But even she admits it — she’s sure got a lot of them.
A critically acclaimed actor who’s been working in the entertainment industry for more than two decades, Palmer — born Lauren Keyana Palmer — broke out at 11 with a lead role in the heartwarming spelling-bee film Akeelah and the Bee. Then she made the jump from child star to two-time Emmy Award-winner and star of blockbuster films from directors like Jordan Peele (Nope) and Lorene Scafaria (Hustlers). She’s a singer who’s released three soul-baring R&B albums and multiple singles, including last year’s “My Confessions,” which explored the fallout of her tumultuous relationship with ex-boyfriend Darius Jackson.
She’s also a host, with two talk shows, Just Keke and Strahan, Sara & Keke under her belt, a weekly interview podcast, Baby, This Is Keke Palmer, and a current gig anchoring the rebooted nighttime network game show Password. She’s an entrepreneur, running her digital-content network, KeyTV, and has served as an effervescent red-carpet interviewer. Don’t forget the two books she’s written, most recently her 2024 memoir, Master of Me. She’s a single mom to three-year-old son Leodis, who the family calls Leo. Oh, and in her free time, she’s also getting certified to be a Pilates instructor.
“I know,” Palmer says, a mock pout on her face. “Here we go again.”
Palmer’s drive and charisma are palpable. When she walks into the empty bar of the Soho House West Hollywood for our interview, her smile like klieg lights, the room becomes a stage. “I’m always trying to work from a point of being an entrepreneur and a creator,” she says. “A lot of times we’re put in a position, especially as talent, that we don’t have a voice.”
Watch the video interview below
Her newest project, I Love Boosters (out now), similarly tackles notions of ownership — though from a more radical, anticapitalist perspective. Directed by Bay Area rapper and indie filmmaker Boots Riley, the movie follows Palmer’s Corvette, a homeless fashion designer who “boosts” clothes from retailers with help from her stylishly dressed entourage, the Velvet Gang, and then resells them. The film wrestles with questions of labor, creativity, and power — all subjects Palmer, 32, is reckoning with in her own life, too.
“As I got older, I became more and more clear that I was holding up a lot,” she says of the pressure to succeed. “It reaches a point where you have to redefine what success is for you and give yourself an opportunity to relish in that, instead of always worrying about the next thing.”
You’ve been in the industry since you were nine. What was the first instinct showbiz might be for you?
I don’t know if I knew it was showbiz immediately. But performing in church or in school plays, I was like, “I’m cool with this.” This big conversation with the audience, I’m into that vibe.
What was your first big audition?
Big is so relative. I would say Barbershop 2. But then my first big audition in California, when we moved, was for a movie with William H. Macy [2004’s The Wool Cap] that got me a SAG nomination.
You were raised in Robbins, Illinois, just outside of Chicago. When did a potential move to Los Angeles come into the picture?
[On Barbershop 2], they were filming things in Chicago, so that was a perfect opportunity. But after that, we realized that there weren’t many things coming to Chicago. So if I wanted to actually be a kid entertainer professionally, I was going to have to move to California.
You have three siblings. And your parents decide, “We think Hollywood’s in the future.” How do you make that decision as a family, to say “We think Keke’s got it. We’re gonna uproot our lives”?
That is really a question, truly, for my parents. Because even I’m like, “Why did y’all do that?” My parents are faith-based folks. My parents really believed. They always said they saw what I was doing and felt it deserved to be seen.
How did being a pastor’s kid show up in the choices you made and how you conducted yourself?
Girl, all through my life! I saw an old picture of me the other day on Facebook. I [had] a blazer on at a kid party. I was always trying to be so pulled together. My dad’s a deacon, so growing up in the church and in that type of environment, it’s always “Put your best foot forward. Know how to behave. Be on point.” Everything was so serious. So I was a little serious child, always trying to be so on point. Like, too much.
“Fame and money are traumatic. Everything is flipped up on its head.”
As a kid, all of a sudden you’re making money in Hollywood. Did you ever feel a pressure to make that next paycheck?
Absolutely, there’s pressure. I came from poverty. We just didn’t have it. We didn’t overthink not having it. We made do with what we had. We had a great sense of love and community, but we didn’t have it. And so once you see what having it is, that becomes a difficult thing to even think about going back. Your first thought is, like, “Oh, no, I have to reach a point of stability.” What’s so interesting is that even when you reach that point of stability, when you’re working from that mindset and that pressure, you don’t know when it’s over. It wasn’t anything that me and my family planned, but I got so successful we found ourselves in this new world.
How did that impact your relationship with your parents, being the breadwinner?
My parents and I talk about it all the time, even more clearly now with the experience being so much behind us. Fame is traumatic. The money thing, it’s traumatic. Everything is flipped up on its head. When we moved, my dad gave up his job. He took out his pension. My sister missed her freshman year of high school. Everybody sacrificed, and over the years, it was continuous. My mom would be on the road with me. Many times my siblings and I were raised with one parent, even though we always had two in the home. So there were a lot of things that we did to make this work as a family. It wasn’t a normal situation. Doesn’t mean it was a bad situation, but it wasn’t normal, and nobody could prepare you for it.
With that in mind, are there aspects of your childhood that you wish you could do over, or experience in a more normal way?
It’s hard sometimes to know what I missed, especially when everybody that I talked to was like, “Girl, you didn’t miss nothing.” I’m like, “What the hell was so bad about high school for y’all to be saying that like that?” I only know high school from my experiences on TV shows. Either it was giving Degrassi or Dawson’s Creek or Moesha. So in my mind, based off of those TV shows, would I want to go back? Sure, just to get into a little Raven Baxter, seeing into the future. I would love that vibe. But also, I had a lot of great experiences on set. I remember running around to Everybody Hates Chris from [the set of my Nickelodeon sitcom] True Jackson, VP, sneaking into the Glee set, sneaking into Dr. Phil, playing around with the golf carts. I had a lot of great memories with that.
Akeelah and the Bee follows a girl’s path to winning the Scripps National Spelling Bee. It turns what could be a formulaic story into something much deeper about success in the Black community. When did you last watch it?
It has to have been years ago, but whenever I’ll see moments of it somewhere, the message of the movie becomes so much deeper for me as I get older. The way that I look at language, how words allow you to express yourself. We’re seeing a young woman with incredible pattern recognition. She has an actual gift and understands the science behind that. It’s a sports movie, and she’s killing it. All of that hits me so much differently as a grown woman and as a mom.
The speech where she’s with Dr. Larabee [played by Laurence Fishburne] and he [makes her read the Marianne Williamson poem “Our Deepest Fear”]: “Who are you not to be? You were born to make manifest.” Having those things in my mind at a very young age — believing that I can go for my goal, believing I have people that want to see me win, that I have support, I have a community behind me — that 100 percent was a part of the trajectory of my life.
What interested you in the character initially?
As a kid, I was not really reading scripts at that point. My mom was always reading the material and seeing if it was something she felt that I should do. Growing up, she really was specific about the kind of material she would even want me to be a part of. When she read Akeelah and the Bee, I just remember her walking into the room [mock crying], “You gotta do this movie, Keke. You gotta do this movie.” We were like, “Are you OK?” She’s in tears. So we sit down as a family, and we read this movie together. We all played roles and did pretty much a family table read of Akeelah and the Bee. We all got really emotional at the end, because even as a kid, I understood what it was like to see this little girl go for her dreams. Because I was actually doing the same thing.
“‘How’s this being seen?’ That’s the pressure you have as a person of color.”
How did being a Disney star shape your career?
Working with Disney taught me how to be vaudeville. I grew up with my mom talking about Judy Garland and Shirley Temple, the real OGs that were singers, dancers, actors, hosts, everything. So I really feel lucky to have worked at Disney growing up. It was very much like MGM. They were turning out little stars.
Are there any examples where you feel like your choices as an actor changed the final product?
I wish I could remember specific ones. But I will say, I was always making sure that there was integrity with what I did. I’m always like, “How’s this being seen?” That’s the pressure that you have as a person of color. So I always did have a little bit of that stress. Many times I was the only Black person, even on my own show. So, that has been a weight I’ve carried.
What do you get out of hosting versus performing?
I love, love, love hosting. I love to talk to people. I love structure, too. In many ways, you’re holding the show together. When I’m doing stuff like [red-carpet interviews] for the Met Gala, these spaces can be so heightened. I always wanna bring it down, not for any reason other than it’s hard up there. So whenever I get an opportunity to curate a space or a vibe that’s like, “We good,” it’s fun for me. It’s like, “Let’s have fun. Let’s be cool.”
Why is music something you also want to carve out time for?
With movies or TV shows, it’s all what the vibe is at the moment. When I’ve gone so deep on doing a character or a role, then I want to do more hosting, more singing — something that allows me to showcase what’s going on in my internal world, speak to who I am as a person. Your fans know, when they listen to the music, that this is you speaking to them and this is what matters to you.
Who are your career inspirations?
When I think about careers that I want to emulate, I think about people like Steve Jobs, just in terms of him being a visionary, creating something that has allowed access for other people — you know, taking a small idea and making it big. I also think about people that have built incredible brands, like Oprah Winfrey, Martha Stewart. Those people impress me because they’re meeting their audience wherever their audience is.
That makes sense, because you’re vocal about wanting to be in the room where it happens. But does that ever become exhausting?
Yeah, I actually do have a problem. I literally get to the point where I’m writing in my journal, “Lauren has 24 hours in a day. If four percent of her day is one hour, how many more …” I’m doing calculations on how I can spread my energy out and make sure I make it through what I’m trying to do. And I have to tell myself every time, “Guess what’s gonna make me better? If I get this rest tonight. If I take that two-week vacation. If I just call off for the day.”
When you’re an ambitious person, which I don’t think is a bad thing — we live in such a hustle and work culture, and everybody feels so forced to do the same thing, we have a weird reaction to that. Am I wrong for wanting to get it done? Am I wrong for having big dreams? We got to be real with ourselves, and we got to have balance. If you really want to get to your goals, take a break. Because it’s going to make you better. That’s something that I’ve learned the hard way.
What was the hard way?
Being disembodied. Not being present in the moment, just being on autopilot. That can be impressive, but it’s not fun because you’re not there, you’re not enjoying it. That’s the hard way, is that you realize, “Oh, shit, did I do that yesterday?” The sign is the lack of recall, of memory. When you start looking at that, then you [have] to say, “Well, wait a minute. If I really care about what I’m doing, I’ve got to make sure I’m honoring rest as a part of the program.”
Talk to me about Nope and working with Jordan Peele.
It was life-changing. He was so embracing to me. He really saw me. When I think about the nuances of that character, and how many conversations we had where he was encouraging me to follow what I knew … It was the first time that I really understood how much autonomy I had. The way he worked with me really, really changed the way that I moved as an actor, because he let me know that was important, and then I [saw] how it enhanced the project. It’s when I really knew that I had a voice that was worth being heard.
How are you thinking about legacy as an actor?
Only as an actor?
“It’s like a dream where you show up with no pants on. Pull up your pants and move on.”
Tell me how you’re thinking about legacy as an actor, and then about legacy overall.
Hollywood is funny. Obviously, I started doing comedy with Nickelodeon and True Jackson, VP, or Disney, [and] in this most recent phase of my career, everybody’s like, “She’s a comedian.” When I was a kid, it was always “She’s the next Angela [Bassett].” I just hope they see me as a character actor — somebody that can play any role, that can give you drama, that can give you comedy, that can give you unique perspectives and work that also [sparks] conversation.
You know how people feel about Quincy Jones? We feel like he’s our family member. He was a part of a lot of storylines and a supporting person in somebody else’s stardom, too. He was his own thing and the one that Michael [Jackson] was working with to make Thriller.
A cultural fixture.
Yes! That’s so important. We making a table together, and you sitting there, you sitting there, and we’re sitting there, and we’re making something [together].
What appealed to you about I Love Boosters?
Love these girls [the Velvet Gang]. Love Boots Riley. We think about the antiheroes of Set It Off, these women that were fighting against the system in the only way they knew how, [a fight] that ultimately cost them their lives. A movie like I Love Boosters [is] a similar tale of women taking matters into their own hands. But it’s also realistic, saying, “Hey, I don’t know that all the [systemic] problems can be solved, but here’s a way we could talk about it.”
That’s so important right now, because we end up carrying this weight all day. Millennials, Gen Z, we’re becoming the new adults. And it’s like, “What did y’all leave us with?” Once we stop crying, once we get up, dust our shoulders off, how do we move forward? [In] this movie, we’re seeing these women have that experience. And we’re also asking ourselves, “Where does community live in that?”
You’re also very directly impacting the next generation as a mom to Leo. Tell me about motherhood.
Oh, my gosh, I could talk about him all day. My son has changed my life. He’s everything to me. And honestly, he’s really a very cool kid. He’s the funnest kid ever, and he’s so smart. Motherhood, I thought was gonna be dope, but it’s way better than I could ever describe. It really is. And it’s not for everybody, but it really was always for me. I get to see this person, be a part of their life, and support them as they become who they are meant to be. It’s just the coolest thing.
That’s so beautiful. Now, what are the parts that are kicking your ass?
Well, first of all, my son’s mean as hell. He’s not nice. I left that part out. The other day I came back from Pilates. I come in the house and my son said, “Mommy, you stink.” Excuse me?
Who’s your village right now?
Me and my sisters live together. And then my mom is always there, and I also have supportive nannies. The village is large. I don’t know what I would be able to do without all the help that I have.
Your experience with motherhood also came out of a difficult relationship with your ex-partner Darius Jackson. In 2023, you posted about being serenaded by Usher at a concert, including a photo from the night, and Jackson went off on Twitter, criticizing what you were wearing, saying, “It’s the outfit tho. You a mom.” When did you first see what he wrote? What was your reaction?
I was in L.A. doing a magazine cover [shoot], and everybody was looking just crazy on my team. I’m like, “What the hell is wrong with them? Why are they looking so weird?” You check socials, you check pop culture as you always do, and then I see that it’s me today. I was in shock. That’s the main thing. I really was in shock. Being a public-facing person, [it] feels like I’m at the office when I post online. [But] I was just like, “This doesn’t belong at work.” I felt stuck because I was like, “I can’t say anything about this. I don’t know [that] this is appropriate.”
“Once we stop crying, get up, dust our shoulders off, how do we move forward?”
The breakup and subsequent legal filings were also made public. In one filing, you accused Jackson of physical abuse. How does that complicate what is already a challenging time?
It just makes it public, and it shouldn’t be, and there’s not much you can do about it. A lot of times [the public] feels like you’re saying [something] to them when you’re saying it to the court. Then it becomes something they expect you to speak on, but it really wasn’t for them to see to begin with. No shade, but this really wasn’t for you. Hate that you found out. I’m gonna handle my life and do what I need to do to move forward. It’s like a dream where you showed up and you got no pants on. What [else can] you do? Pull your pants up and move on.
Coming out of that situation, how are you approaching dating now?
Ain’t nobody interesting. Really, I don’t know what I give off. I feel that I give very closed [energy], because ain’t nobody coming. They’re scared.
Are you looking for a partner who’s not in show business?
I’ve never been into [being in] the public eye. As a public figure, you often get into a relationship with somebody who wants to be a part of your public life. Otherwise, they feel like they’re being hidden. So that’s a hard thing to deal with. When I was younger especially, I used to always be like, “I don’t want anybody in this business.” Because you see a lot. It’s a lot of crazies up over here. But I realize there’s crazies everywhere. So I’m more open to entertainers or people that are in my industry than I was in the past. But I’m giving more Miss Congeniality than Michelle Pfeiffer.
Sandra Bullock’s character ends up with a guy at the end of Miss Congeniality.
Yeah, but you see how it happened? It’s a little too much.
What does it mean to be Keke Palmer?
Keke Palmer is an observer of culture, inspired by her generation, inspired by our creativity, and I just want to reflect it back the best way possible. Whether that’s through conversations on my podcast, through the characters that I play, through the music that I perform, my work is [about] reflecting all the beauty from every corner of our culture. That’s what drives me. That’s what inspires me. I think about Basquiat or Andy Warhol, and how they were observing the thing and also authoring the thing. And I find that in pop culture. I want to do it all.
CT JONES is a staff writer covering entertainment and internet culture. They profiled Yahya Abdul-Mateen II for the May issue.
Production credits
Hair By CHERYL REID For Epiphany Agency INC. Makeup By KENYA ALEXIS At Opus Beauty Using Danessa Myricks. Location: Soho House West Hollywood.