We Need Real Interviewers: Podcasters Are Not Journalists — Yet
Gen Z needs a Gen Z Journalist not a Podcaster // (Journalistic Opinion)
(Disclaimer: Don’t come for me—I love Keke Palmer. But we need to talk about what responsibility podcasters have when it comes to hard-hitting interviews, and what the future of journalism looks like for our generation in a post-cable news world.)
Keke Palmer’s podcast, Baby, This is Keke Palmer, pulled its episode with Jonathan Majors, scheduled for April 8th, following backlash from listeners. The episode, titled "No Easy Answers: Accountability and Moving Forward With Jonathan Majors," was supposed to be part of the press tour for the release of Magazine Dreams. The film was dropped from Disney’s slate during Majors’ 2023 trial for aggravated harassment and assault of former girlfriend Grace Jabbari. Majors was sentenced to a 52-week domestic violence intervention program and probation, avoiding jail time, according to NPR. Marvel Studios dropped the Loki star on all future projects. Last October, Magazine Dreams was picked back up by Briarcliff Entertainment—the same distributor of the polarizing The Apprentice.
Last month, Keke Palmer appeared on Charlamagne the God’s The Breakfast Club radio show. She commented on the episode’s backlash, saying, “I mean, people sit down with serial killers,” she said. “I’m not comparing him to a serial killer, but… I felt like, as a journalist, I’m supposed to talk and we’re supposed to hear and let the public decide how they want to feel.”
But when journalists sit down with serial killers, the goal is often public education—to expose dangerous behavior patterns and inform the public, not to rehabilitate the killer’s image. So unless Palmer’s episode was designed to deeply interrogate Majors' actions, the public had every reason to reject what appeared to be a reputational reset, not a reckoning. Journalistic interviews require a level skepticism, follow-up questions, and a commitment to public interest over good storytelling or clippable moments. It’s not about comfort or building a rapport with the guest like in hosting.
Being a charismatic host doesn’t make you a journalist—and journalism is a skill, not a personality trait.
Palmer, a prolific interviewer on her podcast, is pulling from a tradition of daytime talk show hosts and journalists such as Oprah Winfrey and Gayle King. Although a self-described journalist and vetted media host, can she ethically interview controversial figures in media?
Notably, Winfrey and King got their reps in as reporters before moving on to ventures like TV producing and hosting. Winfrey at age nineteen was “the youngest news anchor and the first Black female news anchor at Nashville's WLAC-TV.” By the age of 29 she was hosting “AM Chicago,” which would end up becoming The Oprah Winfrey Show. Likewise, King has a long history of reporting for CBS News, conducting interviews with former President Barack Obama, Representative John Lewis, and former Secretary of State Mike Pompeo. Her tenure speaks for itself.
Journalism is a study—a craft that can be perfected outside of traditional graduate school—but there’s a method and skillset required. And it’s much easier to transition from a formally trained role as a reporter to a TV host than it is vice versa. Sure, one can pursue journalistic pursuits, but we don’t have degrees in TV hosting.
Clips from the episode’s promotions seemed to carry the jovial nature of any one of Palmer’s episodes. But there’s a great ethical responsibility for Palmer to skip the segments poking fun in favor of seeking truth. If Palmer desires to be a journalist — maybe a reprieve from the episode’s typical format would cement that. It’s not the interviewee himself that’s controversial—it’s the inability to recognize this interview contains greater weight in the cultural conversation towards what rehabilitation looks like for celebrities convicted, or accused, of domestic violence. (If any at all).
King understood the goal of the infamous R. Kelly Interview was to show audiences exactly who the convicted CSA was—by asking critical questions that would directly interrogate his crimes. The goal of the interview wasn’t to platform his re-entry into Hollywood, but to push back on his claims of innocence. Granted, those were much more significant charges than Majors’, but the gravity of the situation was taken into account. The interview all but sealed R. Kelly’s fate in the eyes of the public.
A key ethic of journalism is that we don’t interview friends. On The Breakfast Club, Palmer hinted her friendship with Meagan Good influenced her decision to take on the interview. “Obviously, Meagan is my girl,” she said, “I’ve grown up loving her. She’s honestly a mentor to me and a representation for all of us young Black women. I mean, I was happy for her to get married. I was excited to have the conversation.” Personal biases aren’t supposed to be reflected in the decision to take on an interview.
Likewise, Winfrey in her interview with Meghan Markle following her exit from the Royal Family, directly asked, “Were you silent or silenced?” Despite occupying adjacent spaces in the entertainment world, Winfrey did not hold back from extracting the truth of the situation: Megan Markle was treated unfairly by the Royal Press teams. Markle was hesitant to admit this directly in the interview but it’s enhanced in her response to Winfrey, “the latter.”
That’s the goal of good reporting: extracting the best quotes in a difficult conversation. Can your use of well-researched questions guide your guest to a moment of self-actualization for audiences?
But Palmer’s Jonathan Majors episode wasn’t the only time her interviewing style raised concerns. Her recent sit-down with Love Island stars Michelle "Chelley" Bissainthe and Olandria Carthen similarly missed the mark when it came to addressing controversy. The conversation was not critical enough for her listeners. One TikToker saying, “it fell flat for me—while Keke is asking the questions, she’s also dishing out her own opinion“
A reality show like Love Island falls under the realm of entertainment media, not hard news. But even within that context, there’s an opportunity—and a responsibility—to go deeper. Keke Palmer’s interview with Chelley and Olandria felt more like a friendly catch-up than the kind of probing conversation that audiences, especially in the Bravo-verse, have come to expect. (Think Andy Cohen reunion energy—something cast members may be saving for August.)
Palmer’s phrasing, particularly the vague, “Have any of y’all spoken to Cierra since everything?” fails to acknowledge the seriousness of the events in question. There’s a journalistic responsibility to name what “everything” is—specifically, that Cierra repeatedly used an anti-Asian slur, reinforcing dangerous stereotypes. By avoiding that naming, Palmer inadvertently softened the issue.
Chelley responded, “I did get to speak to her, she did reach out—even when I came back, I couldn’t find what the post was or whatever.” Palmer doesn’t challenge the vagueness of that answer, even though a simple Google search from that week would yield a flood of headlines detailing what “the post” was.
Chelley went on to say, “We didn’t know what reason she got removed... But I did see she reached out. She was just saying she ‘misses all of us,’ she hates what’s happening, she’s basically trying to do better for herself, and reach out to all of us to say her apologies and stuff.”
She continued: “I really hope you’re [Cierra] doing amazing, there’s a lot happening,” and, “She’s taken accountability and is trying to get her mind right.”
Palmer wraps the conversation with a broad, feel-good sentiment about “education,” saying: “I think there’s an opportunity for people to learn a lot of things. I’m glad for the education.” But what is the lesson? Who is being educated, and about what? Without specificity, this kind of statement feels like a PR gloss rather than a moment of truth-telling.
To be clear, Chelley and Olandria are not responsible for Cierra’s behavior. Nor should they be expected to act as racial justice spokespeople simply because they’re Black women on a reality show—especially in an industry that historically builds virality from negative portrayals of Black women. But this moment reflects a larger cultural dissonance around what accountability means for influencers and online personas. It’s easy to say, “everyone deserves grace”—but grace without naming harm becomes complicity in erasure.
Olandria, for her part, touched on a key dynamic of reality TV racial politics:
“It’s very exhausting to say the least. I feel like me and Chelley had to tone down a lot, to not cross over that boundary, because a person that looks the opposite of us— as soon as they get emotional, it’s ‘oh we’re gonna cater to this person.’ But what about us?”
Olandria added:
“But let me and her [Chelley] move like that…”
And Palmer herself offered, “There’s subtle microaggressions—just because I’m saying something sternly it doesn’t mean you need to be afraid of me. That’s something that’s anti-Black.”
Palmer’s point isn’t wrong—but the moment lands flat because it centers her experience instead of letting Olandria and Chelley expand on theirs. It closes the door, instead of opening it.
Ironically, the episode works hard to acknowledge anti-Black microaggressions in editing and audience perception—important, worthy topics—but it tiptoes around naming anti-Asian racism outright. That imbalance is telling.
What’s more, Yulissa Escobar, who was also removed from the villa after a resurfaced video showed her using the N-word, is never mentioned in the interview. Austin Shepard’s racist reposts are also not mentioned. In the vacuum of this discussion, the focus feels arbitrarily selective. A narrower conversation—with clearly defined stakes—might’ve been more productive than trying to loosely address multiple scandals under the guise of one vague “everything.”
Standing on Business with Love Island's Chelley and Olandria doesn’t really Stand on Business
Ultimately, the interview makes room for only one type of Love Island experience—one that privileges personal bonding and IRL friendships over directly naming harm. And that omission leaves a heavy burden on people like Bella, the only cast member who publicly condemned Cierra’s use of the slur. As an Asian-American woman, Bella’s public statement becomes all the more isolating when no one else, not even high-profile interviewers, names what happened.
That silence speaks volumes.
Likewise, Alex Cooper’s Call Her Daddy interview with Huda Mustafa failed to seriously interrogate her behavior on Love Island. Cooper offered multiple outs—softball questions like “What was your upbringing like?”—without holding Mustafa accountable for the harm viewers witnessed. The conversation lacked follow-through: questions didn’t build on one another, and both Mustafa and Amaya were allowed to meander without being grounded in the specifics audiences came to hear.
But to be fair, Cooper has never claimed to be a journalist. She openly positions herself as a media personality first and foremost. While she may be an interviewer, her background—a brief stint with Dirty Water Media—doesn’t equate to the rigorous standards of local news or traditional broadcast journalism. That distinction matters.
“There has been so much conversation about your character, how you treated other islanders, whether or not your behavior is toxic, and we are going to get into all of it tonight… But in order to have a productive conversation I want to get to know you a little better before we get to your Love Island days. I want to talk about your childhood. What was it like in your house growing up?” Alex Cooper’s open to Huda Mustafa’s interview.
What does it mean for Gen Z to get news from entertainment figures? And what standards should we demand from them?
Podcasting is an incredible tool for storytelling in a world where Gen Z doesn’t rely on legacy media outlets. But if we’re going to rely on podcasters for news, critique, and cultural commentary, we must expect more than good vibes and brand-safe banter. The next generation of media consumers deserves interviewers who can handle difficult truths—not just friends with microphones.
A podcast is accessible via social media, but the conversational nature does not allow interviewers to hold their guests’ feet to the fire. Notably, Brad Pitt’s recent press tour has been supposedly relegated to podcasts by his PR team to avoid questions about Angelina Jolie’s legal claims about his alleged assault of her and their children.
Podcasters and hosts like Keke Palmer and Alex Cooper have made the digital leap in interviewing already. But concerted efforts must be made to evolve their interviewing skills. Journalistic Interviewing is not about being friends with your guest and making jokes.
Notable recommendations:
Ziwe—although a comedian and not a traditionally trained journalist, she manages to push hard questions on her guests who notably include: former US Rep George Santos, controversial star Lizzo, and Fran Lebowitz. Ziwe’s interviewing style thrives on the Gen Z stare and uses silence as a tool to extract truth.
Charlamagne tha God—coming from the Wendy Williams hot mic and a shock jock tradition—we can genuinely appreciate the radio host for always pushing his guests to answer truthfully and inching towards uncomfortable topics.
CORRECTION: 07/24/2025; 11:48 AM: Keke Palmer does acknowledge Cierra’s use of a slur “against the Asian community,” around the 26-28 minute mark. The above-referenced is taking a quote from the 45-minute mark that is very vague about Cierra’s ‘accountability,’ and does not further examine the role of her fellow islanders in facilitating that process online and off.