WATCH THE VIDEO HERE Alabama Barker’s “Urban” Era Is Over — And the Rebrand Is Loud Well, it looks like Alabama Barker has officially exited her “urban” phase and returned to her roots — quite literally. The teenage daughter of Blink-182 drummer Travis Barker has recently undergone a full-blown image reset, and let’s just say… Kris Jenner’s fingerprints are all over it. Once flaunting heavy glam, laid baby hairs, long acrylics, and a sound that leaned suspiciously close to TikTok trap, Alabama was — let’s be real — performing Blackness in a way that we’ve seen way too many influencers do before. She positioned herself as a rap-adjacent Gen Z baddie with a heavy “urban” aesthetic, complete with slang, stylized speech, and that vague “Black-girl-lite” vibe that tends to go viral. But now? The edge is gone, the sound is polished, and the rebrand is in full motion. Gone are the oversized chains and curated hood-vibes. In their place? “Pop princess energy.” Think soft lighting, minimal glam, trendy white-girl fashion, and a rollout strategy that screams: mainstream appeal. And yes, we need to talk about it. Because Alabama is far from the first — and likely not the last — young white woman to dip into Black culture for clout, ride the viral wave of hip-hop aesthetics, then retreat back to whiteness once the checks clear or the career strategy shifts. From Bhad Bhabie to Miley Cyrus and even Kim K in her early 2010s “boxer braids” era — the pattern is crystal clear. Use the culture. Monetize the aesthetic. Then hit “reset” when it’s time to go mainstream. With Kris Jenner now reportedly managing Alabama, the strategic pivot makes perfect sense. Kris doesn’t manage “risky.” She manages marketable. And while “urban” can help build a buzz, “clean” sells more brand deals. Let’s not forget — Kris Jenner turned Kim K’s sex tape scandal into a billion-dollar empire. She knows how to sanitize an image without making it boring. But here’s the issue: Black culture isn’t a costume. Black girls don’t get to “take it off” when the aesthetic stops trending. They live with the stereotypes, the erasure, and the backlash every single day. So when influencers use Blackness as a launchpad and then slide back into soft-core whiteness when it’s time for the Vogue cover — it doesn’t just feel fake. It feels exhausting. So, while Alabama’s rebrand might be successful, it’s also predictable. The music’s softer, the visuals are lighter, and her team’s clearly prepping her for a radio-friendly, suburban-sweet rollout. Will it work? Probably. But let’s not pretend we didn’t see the blueprint already. From “urban edge” to “America’s next pop star” — it’s the same story, just with a different blonde.