Every now and then, we get into that tired debate about who’s the real King of R&B. And while folks will argue Chris Brown, Usher, or Luther, Tyrese Gibson decided to stand ten toes down on R. Kelly—again.

At a recent show in Chicago, Tyrese doubled down, proudly shouting: “I got no f*cks to give. The king of R&B is R. Kelly, Chi-Town baby.” Chicago. The same city where Kelly was convicted of child pornography and sexual exploitation of minors. The same city where his abuse thrived for decades while the industry looked the other way.

This wasn’t a misstep. This was a statement. And the fact that it was met with cheers from a crowd proves that this isn’t just about Tyrese—it’s about us, as a culture, and our inability to fully reckon with R. Kelly’s crimes.

Tyrese is far from the first person to give Kelly his flowers. Even after documentaries like Surviving R. Kelly aired the horrors of his abuse, you could still find people —women included—defending him online, screaming “separate the art from the artist.” We’ve seen packed concerts even after the allegations became convictions. We’ve seen hashtags like #FreeRKelly trend. We’ve seen parents bring their teenage daughters to his shows back in the day.

There’s a collective failure here. We all danced to “Step in the Name of Love” at weddings and BBQs. We all knew about Aaliyah. We all heard the rumors. Kelly’s abuse wasn’t just an “open secret”—it was an open joke. And even now, years after his sentencing, there’s still a disturbing loyalty to his music and his so-called crown.

The argument that R. Kelly’s music should be appreciated separately from his crimes doesn’t hold up, because his music was a tool of his abuse. He wrote songs about his predatory behavior. He used his fame to lure young girls and his wealth to silence them. His art and his crimes are intertwined.

And every time we call him “the King of R&B,” we erase the pain of Black girls who were ignored, shamed, and disbelieved. We crown a man whose success came at the expense of their safety.

Let’s be honest: this isn’t just about one man. R. Kelly thrived because the industry, the media, and yes, the community let him. Black girls have always been disbelieved, hypersexualized, and blamed for the violence done to them. That’s why Kelly’s story isn’t just a story about an abuser—it’s a mirror reflecting how we treat Black girls.

We shrug off their pain. We blame them. We defend predators because “he’s talented” or “he’s a legend.” We let nostalgia cloud justice. This is why decades passed before Kelly was finally held accountable.

Calling R. Kelly the “King of R&B” doesn’t just honor his music—it honors his abuse. And that’s a title no one should want to stand behind. This isn’t about cancel culture or throwing away art; this is about refusing to glorify a man whose legacy is built on trauma.

Tyrese’s comments sting not just because of what he said, but because of how casual he was about it, as if decades of evidence, convictions, and survivor testimonies mean nothing. And honestly, he’s not an outlier. He’s voicing what a lot of people still feel but don’t say out loud: that R. Kelly’s catalog matters more than the girls he destroyed.

There are countless artists who deserve that King of R&B title—Usher, Luther Vandross, Marvin Gaye, and even the new wave of singers who are pushing the genre forward without predation hanging over their names. We don’t need to give R. Kelly a crown he used to lure, manipulate, and abuse.

At some point, we have to stop pretending we can separate the man from the music. We can acknowledge his talent without giving him the honor of a title he forfeited the second he started targeting teenage girls.

Tyrese might not “give a f*ck,” but we should. For the Black women and girls who were dismissed. For the culture that let it happen. For the future we claim we want to build.