On Sunday, February 8th, the world sat down to watch the Super Bowl. Many viewers probably couldn’t have named the two teams competing, but they could definitely tell you who was performing the halftime show. Total social consumption of the halftime show, which Bad Bunny performed entirely in Spanish, set a record, reaching 4 billion views in the first 24 hours, up 137%. Clearly, something about this performance was different.
By performing in Spanish on one of the largest stages in the world, Bad Bunny demonstrated that representation without translation is a form of power, and — in this moment — a way to protest the rising antagonism towards Hispanic identity.
For many viewers, especially Latinos, the performance was especially historic because it doubled as a display of strength amidst growing immigration tensions. Hostile rhetoric has swept the nation recently, painting even just the Spanish language as alien and foreign. Families are being broken up, people are being killed, and the media continues to desensitize the public as these horrors continue.
Yet Bad Bunny’s performance was an inescapable, undeniable message reminding viewers of the beauty of Latin culture. One Spanish student at UVA described her reaction this way: “I feel proud to be represented by an artist who preaches peace and community. Especially during such polarizing times, giving this platform to someone who will use it to spread messages about love filled me with hope.”
This kind of hope can be radical. It can inspire change. Another student put it even more directly: “Watching a Latino artist perform unapologetically in Spanish on one of the largest stages in the world felt not only historic but symbolic of a new era of representation … proof that we no longer need to dilute our language or identity to be globally celebrated.”
The brilliance of the show also manifested itself in the details. He began the show in the sugarcane fields, which were the economic backbone of Puerto Rico for centuries, showcasing Jíbaro representation. He displayed variations of Puerto Rican culture, moving from the fields to El Barrio. The utility poles that exploded during his song “El Apagón” may have been a nod to the power grid being destroyed during Hurricane Maria, leading to the grid’s privatization and the rolling blackouts that still occur to this day.
Bad Bunny is shown giving a young child the Grammy he just won, telling him he is the best in the world, and many speculate that the child represents his younger self and other Latino children. One thing is clear: Bad Bunny understood the massive impact his performance could have, and he took no shortcuts to ensure he spoke directly to those viewers at home who hope for better. He knew his audience was much larger than just football fans.
The intimate references to Latino life, such as the child asleep on chairs at a family gathering, represented moments that were instantly recognizable to countless Latin families. These were lived experiences meant to resonate deeply with those who have felt unseen for so long. Latin culture, as one student explained, “Is about relationships and community. The common thread is always loving and supporting one another.”
That warmth was front and center: Bad Bunny’s protest may have been driven by discontent with the political state of the US, but it was undeniably focused on unity and love. Toward the end of the show, banners read “The only thing more powerful than hate is love,” and “Together we are America.” The message was unmistakable, even if you couldn’t speak Spanish.
However, the show generated some intense backlash, much of it centered on the language. Many critics online felt that the performance was “anti-American” because it was in Spanish. These kinds of accusations reveal just how fragile the definition of “American” is, and how exclusive it is despite the millions of legal citizens and residents who speak Spanish daily.
One student said, “It disappoints me. People are so quick to politicize and polarize things. Hearing the reasoning behind some people’s issue with the show was disheartening because it represents something much larger.” People are afraid right now — afraid that one person’s visibility means another’s replacement, and afraid that a multilingual America threatens to assemble an America that some are uncomfortable with.
This is why Bad Bunny’s show was more than just music, and much more than just a stubborn refusal to perform in English. Visibility — especially for those who have felt invisible or demonized — matters. A show watched by millions of people can’t go unseen.
What I hope viewers understood, and what many Latino viewers clearly did, is this: Celebrating Latino culture does not exclude anyone. Singing in Spanish on a national stage wasn’t meant to divide anyone — rather it was a powerful acknowledgement of a group of people that have felt increasingly isolated.
As one student put it, “Unity does not require uniformity.”
Bad Bunny’s halftime show was powerful, but not just because he represented Spanish culture. It was powerful because it existed confidently and lovingly in a moment when Spanish-speaking communities are being asked to justify their presence and defend their belonging.
He did not justify. He celebrated. He asked for space alongside others, not in replacement of them. In fact, the only English words he spoke were “God Bless America.” He was not there to turn the snake on its head, but rather to get rid of the snake altogether.
In today’s America, I applaud anyone brave enough to exist unapologetically yet graciously in a country that insists they should not be there.
The opinions expressed within this piece represent the views of the author alone and do not necessarily reflect the views of The Jefferson Independent.
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