Bad Bunny’s halftime show represented something bigger than music

I’d never watched the Super Bowl. I’m not sure the thought had even crossed my mind – perhaps, in the abstract, the way one considers learning to golf or caring about the stock market. But actually hunkering down on the night of with snacks, tailgate evangelists, and sincere emotional investment? Absolutely not.

But last night, heart racing, my eyes were glued to the screen. And judging by more than 120 million viewers tuned in, the rest of the country couldn’t look away either, as Bad Bunny went down in history as the first Latin solo artist to headline the Super Bowl halftime show.

Just a week earlier, the Puerto Rican superstar had already rewritten the record books at the Grammys, snagging three trophies for Debí Tirar Más Fotos, including Album of the Year – the first mostly Spanish-language LP ever to take the prize. What went viral, though, wasn’t the win. It was his politically potent words. ​“Before I say thanks to God, I’m gonna say ICE out,” he told the crowd while accepting Best Música Urbana Album award, calling out the Trump administration’s immigration policies. ​“We are not savages. We are not animals. We are not aliens. We are humans, and we are Americans.” Even amid ongoing outrage over mass detentions and the killing of two U.S. citizens by federal agents in Minneapolis, the NUEVAYoL singer ended not with rage, but with a plea for love over hate.

And when Benito walked out onto the field in an off-white football jersey stamped ​“OCASIO,” opening with his 2022 hit Titi Me Preguntó, that message carried over to America’s biggest stage.

For the next 13 minutes, he teleported viewers to Puerto Rico with a set inspired by his coastal hometown of Vega Baja. Sugarcane fields framed the scene. Jíbaro dancers in pava hats moved through piragua and coco frío carts. There was a barbershop, girls getting their nails done, elders playing dominoes, kids sprinting through the set like it was a real neighbourhood and dancing everywhere. Reggaeton and dembow bled into salsa, bomba, and plena, with panderetas, güiros, maracas, and the cuatro weaving through trap beats.

At the center of it all sat La Casita — the pink-and-yellow house that anchored Bad Bunny’s No Me Quiero Ir de Aquí San Juan residency, which pumped nearly $200 million back into Puerto Rico. He’d even toured it across Latin America. Now it sat at midfield, inside the most sacred ritual in American television. On the porch, his friends – Cardi B, Karol G, Pedro Pascal, Jessica Alba, and Alix Earle among them – cheered him on like it was a house party back home. Playing respect to the reggaeton artists who paved the way, there was a brief blend of classics by Daddy Yankee, Tego Calderón, Hector el Father and Don Omar. Local icons like Williamsburg’s Toñita, owner of one of the city’s last Latino social clubs and a Bad Bunny regular, joined the star on the field too.

Then came the cameos. Lady Gaga twirled out wearing a tiered blue Luar gown and a corsage featuring a Flor de Maga (the official flower of Puerto Rico) for a salsa version of her Bruno Mars duet Die With a Smile, dancing with Benito like they were at a wedding reception – which, conveniently, was also happening on the field. Later, Ricky Martin joined him for Lo Que le Pasó a Hawaii (What Happened to Hawaii), a song that wrestles with what happens when paradise is repackaged for outsiders who don’t have to live with the consequences. Moments like El Apagón, during which dancers scaled utility poles inspired by those on the island served as a reminder of Puerto Rico’s fragile power grid.

And honestly? It didn’t just look like Puerto Rico. It looked like New York too. From the streetscapes to the people, the show evoked neighbourhoods like East Williamsburg and Washington Heights.

By the end, what became clear – perhaps even earlier, given Donald Trump and his allies’ opposition to Bad Bunny headlining the show – is that he represents something far bigger than music. Standing at midfield, flanked by percussionists, sugarcane rising around him like a corridor, at the end of the performance he spoke directly into the mic: ​“God bless America,” he said, then he kept going: ​“Chile. Argentina. Uruguay. Paraguay…” One by one, he named countries across the Americas as the flags rose. On the stadium’s massive video board towering above the field behind him, there was that reminder again: ​“The only thing more powerful than hate is love.”