For Your Consideration: Why Kehlani's "Folded" Deserves Record of the Year

“I’m not in charge of submissions and I wish “Folded” could’ve gotten submitted for the main categories, but such is life. I’m grateful.” — Kehlani, via Instagram Stories

When Kehlani shared that quiet note of gratitude tinged with disappointment, fans already knew what she was talking about. “Folded,” the Bay Area singer-songwriter’s career-defining smash, has dominated airwaves and playlists for months, hitting No. 1 on Billboard’s Rhythmic chart, No. 5 on R&B/Hip-Hop Airplay, No. 2 on R&B/Hip-Hop Songs, and climbing to No. 18 on the Hot 100. It’s the biggest record of her career, a song that has transcended algorithms to become a living, breathing cultural moment.

But for her label, “Folded” apparently remains “just” an R&B song. Despite its crossover success and emotional universality, Atlantic Records submitted it solely to the R&B categories for Grammy consideration. No Record of the Year. No Song of the Year. Just the box Black artists are too often placed in.

What makes “Folded” special isn’t only its chart success but the organic connection with listeners that has allowed the song to take on a life of its own. Its appeal stretches far beyond R&B’s borders. From inventive and fun TikTok mashups to gospel renditions to HBCU bands immortalizing the song’s popularity at halftime shows, “Folded" has become a communal soundtrack for yearning, reflection, and healing. And then there are the legendary cosigns: Toni Braxton, Brandy, Craig David, Mario, and Tank have all released their own versions, a rare cross-generational show of reverence that underscores the song’s reach.

When legends who helped define popular music champion a song like “Folded,” it’s not just homage—it’s recognition of greatness. Indeed, when Brandy and Toni Braxton, artists who were once confined to “R&B only” lanes, celebrate Kehlani’s work, it speaks to continuity and evolution.

If this feels familiar, it’s because it is. The Grammys have a long, well-documented history of marginalizing Black artists by rewarding them in genre categories while overlooking them in the general fields. From Beyoncé and The Weeknd to Frank Ocean and Tyler, the Creator, the pattern persists.

As Marie Claire and The Sound of Life have detailed, the Recording Academy has spent decades using genre boundaries as containment zones for Black art. Beyoncé’s long-overdue Album of the Year win for Cowboy Carter earlier this year seemed like progress, until the Academy created a new “Best Contemporary Country Album” category almost immediately afterward. The message was unmistakable: this victory was an exception, not a precedent.

That same logic seems to echo in Kehlani’s case. “Folded” has proven its universal resonance—melodic, relatable, and radio-friendly—yet it’s again labeled as niche. The Grammys, and often the labels submitting entries, still struggle to acknowledge that R&B has mass appeal and shapes culture. The institutions love R&B when it’s safe, but not when it’s seismic.

Since her 2014 breakout Cloud 19, Kehlani has lived many musical lives: SoundCloud prodigy, platinum-selling songwriter, mixtape confessionalist, and pop experimentalist. She’s been nominated for five Grammys, all within R&B categories, despite a catalog that often flirts with pop, alternative, and even rock textures.

2025’s Crash marked a turning point. Sleek, confident, and sonically adventurous, it blurred genre lines in the same way Doja Cat, SZA, and The Weeknd have done before her. Yet those artists eventually crossed into the Grammys’ general fields, while Kehlani remains bracketed.

In any other year, a hit like “Folded” would be a Record of the Year contender. For Kehlani, it’s treated as a genre victory rather than a cultural one.

Kehlani Crash album cover shot by Israel Riqueros.

To be clear, this particular snub isn’t the Grammys’ doing (at least not yet). The nominating committee could still go rogue and honor “Folded” in the General Field. But the submission process begins with the label. Each record company decides which categories to enter, often strategizing based on perceived odds. Submitting “Folded" to R&B categories likely felt like a safer bet, a guaranteed nomination shot instead of a high-risk, high-reward gamble in the main fields.

That safety, however, comes at a cost. When labels underestimate the mainstream power of their Black artists, they reinforce the very limitations they claim to resist. It’s a short-term strategy that sacrifices long-term cultural wins.

Atlantic Records’ decision mirrors the same cautious approach that kept icons like Toni Braxton, Brandy, and Mary J. Blige largely sidelined from the Grammys’ biggest moments during their peaks. Even as their music defined eras, it was rarely positioned as “of the year,” only “of their genre.”

In 2020, Tyler, the Creator called out the Recording Academy after his win for Best Rap Album, noting how “urban” had become a coded way to say “the N-word.” The term was officially retired a few years later, but the mindset hasn’t shifted as much as headlines suggested. The Academy still tends to reward innovation when it comes from white or racially ambiguous artists while framing Black excellence as exceptional only within category constraints. When a song like “Folded,” with its universal emotionality and viral reach, isn’t recognized beyond R&B, it reveals how the Grammys’ cultural lag continues.

“Folded” captures everything that makes music resonate today: intimate storytelling, emotional intelligence, and a timeless sense of melody. It’s therapy disguised as a slow jam, the kind of record you can sing along to at the club or after a breakup. Its success wasn’t manufactured by a viral challenge or playlist algorithm; it grew organically, fueled by word-of-mouth, fan covers, and celebrity co-signs that cut across generations.

When Toni Braxton, Brandy, and Tank line up to reinterpret your song, you’re no longer just part of a genre conversation—you’re part of music history. “Folded” has become a cultural meeting point for eras of R&B and, by extension, for modern Black music’s emotional core.

Kehlani’s reaction, graceful but candid, reflects the quiet resilience many Black artists have learned to adopt. Gratitude and disappointment coexist. “Such is life. I’m grateful,” she wrote, capturing the exhaustion of knowing that institutional recognition rarely matches real-world impact.

Even without a general-field nod, “Folded” has already won something larger: a place in Black culture, which ultimately shapes the mainstream. It’s the kind of song that will outlive this year’s nominations list, continuing to echo through playlists, samples, and hearts long after the trophies are handed out.