I approached this year’s Super Bowl halftime show bracing for the unremarkable. Groundbreaking wasn’t on my radar, nor was a performance destined for lasting memory. I simply hoped for something…appropriate, something befitting the uniquely American spectacle the Super Bowl has become.
That basic expectation went unmet. From the outset, the selection of Bad Bunny felt discordant, and this wasn’t a matter of political alignment. A performer’s stance on any given politician is ultimately beside the point.
The core issue was representation. The Super Bowl isn’t merely another concert; it’s a nationally televised event, presented as a celebration of American culture to tens of millions. It’s a moment intended to unite.
America thrives as a melting pot, a vibrant tapestry of cultures, languages, and backgrounds. Yet, a shared foundation remains, and that foundation is language. English serves as the essential connective tissue for a nation of this scale and diversity.
When a halftime show is overwhelmingly performed in a language inaccessible to the majority of viewers, it risks feeling alienating, severing the connection with the very audience it aims to entertain. It ceases to be a unifying experience.
This isn’t a dismissal of Spanish music or the artists who create it. Bad Bunny’s popularity is undeniable, his success well-earned. His music deserves its place, and his fans are passionate and loyal.
However, the Super Bowl halftime show transcends individual popularity. It’s about forging a moment that resonates broadly, capturing the spirit of the American public. That resonance was conspicuously absent this year.
Objectively, the performance itself was lackluster. Genuine singing was scarce, audience engagement minimal, and the effort to connect with those watching at home felt nonexistent. The energy was flat, the spectacle underwhelming.
Even divorced from the language barrier, the show was simply boring, failing to justify its presence on the biggest stage in American sports. It lacked the dynamism and grandeur one expects from such an event.
The situation was further complicated by the immediate politicization of the performance – not from the right, but from the left. The selection itself was framed as a cultural statement, transforming the halftime show into a symbol rather than a celebration.
The Super Bowl shouldn’t be leveraged to advance ideological points about identity or culture. It should be a moment of shared enjoyment, a temporary respite from division.
Numerous halftime performers haven’t been conservative, Republican, or supporters of any particular politician. That’s never been the crux of the matter. They understood a fundamental responsibility: connect with the audience, communicate in a shared language, and deliver a performance appropriate for the occasion.
This halftime show failed on all counts. It shouldn’t have happened, and it should serve as a valuable lesson. The Super Bowl is an American institution, and treating its halftime show with the respect it deserves isn’t exclusionary—it’s a matter of honoring the audience that built it.
