Bad Bunny made history at the Super Bowl on Sunday, giving voice to Puerto Rican history and culture, and doing so in Spanish at a time when that alone could get you picked up by masked immigration agents. Though Bad Bunny did not yell “ICE out” or otherwise call out the Trump administration directly, his performance was unapologetically political.
And you know what? It was a party, too, complete with live salsa, perreo dancing and even a wedding. You didn’t have to understand Spanish or know anything of what he was talking about to enjoy it. But if you do speak Spanish, it was so much more.
We knew he would probably use the show to make a statement, but even we weren’t prepared for the emotional roller coaster Bad Bunny, a.k.a. Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio, took us on. It felt subversive to see this display of joy, pride and resistance. It often felt as though there were two different shows unfolding — one for America and one for América.
His 13-minute set opened with a man dressed in white, guitar in hand and wearing a pava, the classic straw hat worn by the Puerto Rican jíbaro, or small farmer, a contradictory symbol who is the embodiment of Puerto Rican national culture. “Que rico es ser Latino,” he said, holding his guitar. “How wonderful it is to be Latino.” That line tugged on the heartstrings of Latinos, immigrants and others who, like Bad Bunny, have been told they don’t belong here.
At times Bad Bunny looked into the camera and spoke to us directly — in Spanish, telling us to believe in ourselves, that we are so much more than we think we are. He sang, “Este es P.R.” — “This is P.R.” — and winked through the camera to those of us at home. And of course there were the white plastic chairs that have come to symbolize the displacement addressed in his recent album and that sit in and on patios, porches and marquesinas, or carports, all over the Americas.
People magazine described the performance as a “fun-filled dance party” that largely abandoned politics in favor of sexiness, joy and tropical flavor. A friend texted to say she was especially annoyed when one media outlet referred to the plants onstage as “shrubbery,” oblivious to how those sugar cane fields recalled a long history of chattel slavery and colonialism in the Caribbean.
During the set, Bad Bunny performed “El Apagón,” a searing critique of Puerto Rico’s failing electrical grid and the long legacy of colonialism behind it. The jíbaros were recast as electrical workers, evoking the ingenuity of Puerto Ricans rebuilding after Hurricane Maria amid federal negligence. Where some viewers may have seen only electrical poles, we saw an acknowledgment of one of the most painful chapters in Puerto Rico’s recent history. And yet, the workers and Bad Bunny still danced, still partied, still lived.
Our friends in Los Angeles cheered when they saw the popular Villa’s Tacos stand, while those in Brooklyn lit up when Toñita of Williamsburg’s Caribbean Social Club handed Bad Bunny a drink. Nearly halfway through the show, the music stopped, and the camera cut to a real couple — two fans who had originally invited Bad Bunny to their wedding — being pronounced husband and wife during the performance.
In the reception scene that followed, the sight of a child dozing across the chairs reminded us of family parties and the endless waiting for our parents to call it a night. We saw ourselves in the little girl Bad Bunny spun around — memories of itchy puffy dresses at family gatherings, dancing with uncles, weaving between grown-ups to chase cousins. “Baila sin miedo, ama sin miedo,” Bad Bunny shouted. “Dance without fear. Love without fear.”
But there was more than feel-good nostalgia wrapped up in that halftime show. In one particularly poignant moment, Ricky Martin appeared sitting on a white chair in the Puerto Rican countryside to sing “Lo Que Le Pasó a Hawaii,” one of Bad Bunny’s most explicit pro-independence anthems. In the song, Bad Bunny urges Puerto Ricans to hold onto their culture and their land in the face of gentrification and displacement.
Mr. Martin crossed over into the English-language market during the 1990s, helping usher in the Latin pop boom. To do so, he embodied many of the stereotypes associated with Latinos. Many likely remember him as the happy-go-lucky, hip-thrusting Latin lover who urged you to “shake your bon-bon.” Since then, he has come out as gay and become a vocal advocate for Puerto Rican sovereignty, joining Bad Bunny at the 2019 protests that led to the ouster of the governor at the time, Ricardo Rosselló.
In Mr. Martin’s autobiography, he wrote that he feared that acknowledging he was gay would ruin his career. He didn’t publicly come out until he was in his late 30s. As he sang, our minds flashed back to a scene moments earlier, where two male dancers grinded together as they stared at each other, sin miedo. It was a quiet yet defiant statement about queerness, visibility and Latin identity.
Bad Bunny showed us that when he said, “We are Americans” at the Grammys, he wasn’t merely referring to citizenship status. He was challenging this country’s ever-narrowing definitions of who is — and is not — American.
Through a celebration of wedding, family, joy and community, he created a showcase in which many Latinos, especially Puerto Ricans, felt seen, heard and represented at every turn, with millions dancing along at home, even if they didn’t know exactly what was going on. He invited us all to join the party. And that might just be the biggest form of resistance for all.
Petra R. Rivera-Rideau is an associate professor and the chair of American studies at Wellesley College. Vanessa Díaz is an associate professor of Latino studies at Loyola Marymount University.
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