😳“‘She Was ERASED!’: Damon Dash Drops BOMBSHELL About How Jay Z BLACKLISTED Des’ree to Clear Path for Beyoncé 👑🔥

At first glance, Des’ree’s disappearance from the spotlight seemed like one of those sad but common industry tales: the one-hit-wonder who faded into nostalgia.

But here’s the thing—Des’ree wasn’t a one-hit-wonder.

She was the voice behind Kissing You, the heartbreaking ballad immortalized by Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet.

She gave us You Gotta Be, a track that climbed to #5 on the Billboard charts and dominated VH1 screens for over a year.

She was crowned Best British Female Solo Artist and praised for lyrics that didn’t sell sex or scandal, but truth.

So how does someone that powerful just disappear?

According to a rising chorus of voices—and allegedly confirmed in part by Damon Dash—Des’ree didn’t slip.

She was pushed.

The catalyst? A battle over one song—a song Beyoncé allegedly covered without proper clearance.

The track was Kissing You, retitled Still in Love (Kissing You) for Beyoncé’s B’Day deluxe edition.

Queen B not only re-recorded it but allegedly claimed writing credit.

When Des’ree found out, she didn’t just roll over.

She filed a lawsuit, demanded $150,000 in damages, and insisted on the song’s distribution being blocked.

It was a bold, principled move—but in an industry powered by billion-dollar names, it may have been the kiss of death.

Enter Jay Z.

Enter the blacklisting.

According to whispers now gaining volume, Jay Z allegedly used his enormous influence to shut Des’ree out of the industry.

She wasn’t just ignored.

She was erased.

Her label, Sony, dropped her shortly after the lawsuit.

Despite her history of hits, they pointed to a single underperforming album as justification.

Never mind her track record.

Never mind the awards.

She went from headlining stages to being ghosted by radio, television, and industry events.

Dash, once a close insider in the Jay-Z-Beyoncé empire, has been dropping bombshells of his own lately—and according to insiders, he’s hinting that Jay played a direct role in making sure Des’ree’s career quietly

died after that lawsuit.

And this isn’t an isolated accusation.

Beyoncé, while undoubtedly one of the greatest entertainers alive, has a history of being accused of borrowing—sometimes heavily—from lesser-known artists, often with consequences for them, not her.

Back in 1998, Des’ree already had to fight Janet Jackson for the same reason—similarity between Jackson’s Got Till It’s Gone and Des’ree’s Feel So High.

Though that case ended in an out-of-court settlement, Des’ree made it clear: “It wasn’t about money.

It was about justice.

” The music industry, she said, has a sampling problem—and artists like her, especially Black women who don’t fit the mold, are often on the losing end.

Des’ree’s music, praised for its calm strength and introspection, didn’t fit neatly into urban radio’s expectations.

She was labeled “not Black enough” for Black radio and “not pop enough” for mainstream.

The gatekeeping was real—and it was brutal.

But the lawsuit with Beyoncé? That’s when things seemed to fall off a cliff.

Her struggles weren’t limited to legal battles.

Des’ree battled anxiety and an underactive thyroid that affected her energy levels.

But artists have overcome far worse and thrived—with the right backing.

Instead, she was offered rebranding ideas that made her feel boxed in.

She was told she didn’t “fit” anywhere.

That kind of genre gatekeeping? It’s how brilliance dies in a boardroom.

She once remarked, “The definition of Black music needs redefining.

” Des’ree spoke openly about how artists like Sade and Seal were also excluded from urban radio because they were “too pop.

” Imagine that—Sade.

And yet the same exclusion forced Des’ree into creative limbo.

But then there was that song lyric.

One line from her hit Life—”I’d rather have a piece of toast and watch the evening news”—landed her on multiple “worst lyrics ever” lists.

The backlash was swift, cruel, and viral.

Suddenly, the soulful woman who gave the world vulnerable, healing music became an internet punchline.

It was all too convenient.

Too fast.

Too total.

And for those who see patterns, Des’ree’s case looks eerily like others.

Take Amarie, for instance.

Known for her unique go-go sound, her sonic fingerprint mysteriously surfaced in Beyoncé’s Crazy in Love—produced by Rich Harrison, who had previously worked with Amarie.

Her star dimmed.

Beyoncé’s rose.

Coincidence?

Or Jennifer Armour.

In 2003, Armour submitted her demo Got a Little Bit of Love for You to Columbia Records.

A few months later, she heard Baby Boy on the radio—and filed a lawsuit claiming it copied her track.

The case was dismissed, but the story adds to the growing pile of complaints against the Queen.

Des’ree didn’t just fight back.

She paid for it.

Her label dropped her.

Her bookings dried up.

The radio ignored her.

She vanished.

She re-emerged in 2019, releasing a quiet single called Don’t Be Afraid.

But the support wasn’t there.

It barely made a ripple.

The same voice that once carried an entire generation had been strategically muted.

Today, she focuses on alternative medicine.

She’s a certified naturopath and nutritionist.

She found healing in clay, paint, and peace.

But the question remains—what if she hadn’t stood up for her rights? What if she had stayed silent?

Would she still be headlining festivals? Would she be a global icon?

Or was her exit inevitable in an industry that protects its biggest stars at all costs—even if it means destroying the careers of those in their path?

Damon Dash says it was no accident.

And if he’s right, we have to ask: How many more Des’rees have been buried in silence so others could rise in spotlight?

In the end, this isn’t just about one artist.

It’s about an entire system that punishes integrity, gatekeeps authenticity, and sacrifices justice for image.

Des’ree deserved better.

And if what Damon Dash says is true, the world deserves the truth.