By Matt Underwood The recent Super Bowl halftime show, featuring Bad Bunny, sparked a curious reaction, with the global music sensation steering clear of overt political statements, while former President Donald Trump seemingly found himself in a rage over the performance. It’s quite telling that Trump, according to some accounts, chose to watch Bad Bunny’s performance instead of a pre-planned “alternative” show. This detail alone suggests a certain fascination, even if the resulting reaction was decidedly negative.
What struck many viewers was the sheer joy and cultural richness Bad Bunny brought to the stage. It was described by some as one of the most genuinely uplifting halftime shows they had witnessed in a long time. Despite the lack of explicit political messaging, the performance managed to ignite a strong reaction from a particular segment of the online discourse, particularly within MAGA circles. The marching orders seemed to be issued, talking points repeated, and a tidal wave of anger and apoplexy cascaded across certain platforms.
The irony, for many observers, was that this outrage was directed at a performance that was, in its essence, about love, unity, and cultural pride. Instead of focusing on more pressing societal issues, the focus shifted to a celebration of heritage. The fact that Bad Bunny sang entirely in Spanish, a common language for millions across the Americas, became a focal point of criticism for some, highlighting a jarring disconnect.
The performance itself was a vibrant tapestry of cultural expression. Bad Bunny, a proud Puerto Rican artist, delivered a show that resonated deeply with many. He was seen dancing through sugarcane fields, a visual callback to history, and the show included elements like Lady Gaga doing a salsa and Ricky Martin’s electrifying presence, painting a picture of diverse Latin American culture. A particularly poignant moment was when he handed his Grammy award to a young boy in the audience, a gesture of hope and belief in future generations.
The culmination of the performance saw Bad Bunny standing on a global stage, uttering “God bless America,” followed by a powerful enumeration of nations across the Americas, including his homeland, Puerto Rico. The appearance of flags from these diverse countries, projected on the jumbotron alongside the powerful message, “THE ONLY THING MORE POWERFUL THAN HATE IS LOVE,” clearly moved many in the audience to tears. This was perceived by many as the true American story – a messy, beautiful, multilingual, and multicolored narrative built by people from all corners of the hemisphere.
In stark contrast to this message of unity, Donald Trump’s reaction was widely reported as vehemently negative. He reportedly called the performance “absolutely terrible,” stating that “nobody understands a word this guy is saying” and deeming it “a slap in the face to our Country.” The disconnect here is profound: while many saw a celebration of love, culture, and hemispheric connection, the former President perceived only something foreign and threatening.
This reaction, for some, illuminated a “poverty of the soul,” a failure to embrace the diverse fabric of America and the broader hemisphere. The critique extended to the existence of an “alternative” performance featuring Kid Rock, which was billed as a “family-friendly” option. The very notion that America has a “velvet rope” and that belonging is tied to singing in English was seen as a divisive and exclusionary sentiment.
The potential long-term impact of such reactions is a concern for many. The idea that children and grandchildren will look back at these moments and understand where individuals stood – choosing a celebration of a hemisphere’s flags over the message of love, or dismissing it as “disgusting” – is a sobering thought. The inheritance of hate, passed down through generations, is a heavy burden, and this perceived divide at the Super Bowl halftime show only amplified those concerns.
Bad Bunny’s performance, while not overtly political in the traditional sense, carried immense political weight through its message of inclusivity and love. He didn’t need to explicitly denounce specific policies; he simply showcased what America looks like when fear and division are set aside, when culture is shared, and when language is seen as music, not a threat. The message that “The only thing more powerful than hate is love” resonated with over 100 million viewers, a sentiment that cannot be erased by social media posts or angry pronouncements.
The subtle nuances within the performance were not lost on everyone. Visual cues, such as references to electrical poles, a nod to Puerto Rico’s ongoing struggles with power outages due to political mismanagement, and the use of light blue in a flag, were interpreted as deliberate political statements by some who understand the island’s context. These elements, combined with the overall message of hemispheric unity and love, clearly indicated that the performance was, in fact, deeply political, albeit in a way that bypassed the usual MAGA-style outrage bait.
The comparison between Bad Bunny’s dignified, unifying performance and the reactions from certain political figures and their followers highlights a fundamental difference in approach. While one side offers a message of love and shared humanity, the other seems to thrive on division and exclusion. The fact that a message of unity is now considered “political” by some speaks volumes about the current state of discourse, suggesting that decency itself has become a radical act in certain circles. The enduring impact of Bad Bunny’s powerful, yet gentle, demonstration of love and unity stands in sharp contrast to the predictable fury it ignited in others, proving that sometimes, the most profound political statements are made through art and emotion, rather than explicit rhetoric.