Halftime Show Review

Bad Bunny’s halftime show wasn’t just a performance, it felt to many like a statement carved into the biggest stage in America, something both celebratory and defiant at the same time. From the very beginning, when the field transformed into sugarcane fields, he wasn’t just referencing Puerto Rico, he was reminding the audience of a history shaped by colonization and labor, something beautiful on the surface but rooted in exploitation. That contrast, beauty and pain existing together, mirrors a common tension: grief for what’s been taken, and resistance in still choosing to exist.

What stood out most was how the entire performance centered identity as something unerasable. The all-white clothing, worn by both Bad Bunny and the jíbaro figures, didn’t just symbolize tradition, it felt like a reclamation of cultural visibility, a refusal to be made invisible in a space that has historically excluded voices like his. Even the smallest details, the coconut stands, piraguas, domino tables, turned everyday life into something sacred, almost like he was saying that culture isn’t just history, it’s survival. 

But the most powerful symbolism came through unity. Flags from across Latin America, the naming of countries, and the blending of different cultures into one shared space all pushed back against the idea that “America” belongs to only one identity. Instead, he reframed it as something collective, something layered, something that cannot be reduced or simplified. In that way, the performance became less about nationality and more about belonging, who gets to claim space, and who has always been part of it, whether recognized or not.

Even moments that seemed chaotic carried meaning. Take, for example, the collapsing house where Bad Bunny simply stood back up and kept performing. It reflected resilience, the idea that even when systems fail or try to break you, you continue anyway. And then, woven through everything, was this quiet but undeniable message: love, in all its forms, community, culture, identity, is stronger than the forces trying to erase it. The wedding scene, the gathering of people, the joy that filled the performance, it all pushed back against fear and division, turning the stage into proof that connection can outlast hate. 

In the end, the show didn’t just argue that love conquers hate, it demonstrated it. By centering culture, joy, and community in a space often tied to exclusion and nationalism, Bad Bunny turned resistance into something visible, something loud, and something impossible to ignore.

Author: Elizabeth Sieling

Editor: Adrian Lewison