When a Halftime Show Says More About Us Than the Music Ever Could

I didn’t watch the Super Bowl halftime show last night, but I woke up to such a wave of opinions — sharp, angry, and honestly exhausting opinions — that I finally sat down with a cup of tea and watched Bad Bunny’s performance. And do you know what happened?

I smiled.

I felt my shoulders loosen.

And my feet wanted to dance.

It made me wonder: What exactly are people so angry about?

Because from where I sit — a conservative woman who has lived a lot of life, who has known deep pain and deeper joy, who has learned to find the good even in the most unexpected places — all I saw was an artist expressing himself. A U.S. citizen from Puerto Rico. A man living what many would agree is the American dream.

Yet there is outrage.

And the outrage made me more curious than the performance itself.

🇺🇸The American Dream Doesn’t Speak Only One Language

Yes — Bad Bunny is American.

Yes — Puerto Rico is a United States territory. It is under U.S. sovereignty, its people are U.S. citizens, and its culture is part of the American mosaic.

And yes — our nation has always been a tapestry of languages, rhythms, and stories.

We celebrate operas sung in Italian at places as grand as the Metropolitan Opera House.

We pay good money to hear German and French arias we don’t understand.

We nod along respectfully because “that’s art.”

But when Spanish fills a football stadium — with joy, color, movement, and modern rhythm — some people suddenly feel threatened.

It’s not the language, and it’s not the music.

It’s the discomfort of seeing a version of America that looks broader than the one they grew up imagining.

But broader isn’t worse.

Broader is simply truer.

And perhaps the lyrics were a little risqué — I genuinely don’t know. But I do know this: some of my favorite songs by Kid Rock are plenty risqué, and I’ve never once let that stop me from turning up the volume and enjoying the music. So I’m not going to judge Bad Bunny based on language or the possibility of edgy lyrics either. If we give grace to the artists we grew up loving, then fairness asks us to offer that same grace to artists who weren’t made for us but might be making someone else feel alive in their own skin.

✝️ ✡️A Moment About Faith — and What My Family Shows Me Daily

Some of the people I love most in this world — including the light of my life, my granddaughter — are Jewish. And guess what? They weren’t offended by the TPUSA performance praising Jesus.

My own family is proof that America is wide enough to hold multiple faiths, multiple languages, multiple stories — all at once, peacefully and lovingly.

If a Christian moment can be celebrated without controversy, then a Spanish-language halftime performance should be able to exist without outrage too.

It’s not about language.

It’s not about religion.

It’s not about “sides.”

It’s about whether we let our hearts expand — or shrink.

🎶Music Speaks the Truth Before We Do

I didn’t know the lyrics.

I still don’t.

But I know what joy feels like.

I know what it feels like when music lifts you up before your brain has time to form an opinion.

It reminded me that human beings are wired to connect long before we are wired to judge.

The judging part — we learn that.

The dancing part — that’s innate.

💔Why Are We So Quick to Be Angry?

I don’t think the anger is really about a 13-minute halftime show.

It’s about fear.

Fear of change.

Fear of what’s unfamiliar.

Fear that someone else’s expression might somehow take away from our own.

But here’s the quiet truth I’ve learned through years of living and loving and losing and healing:

Joy is not a limited resource.

Someone else’s joy does not steal yours — unless you let it.

And hate is loud, but it’s also brittle.

It shatters easily when kindness enters the room.

🌎What We Could Do Instead

Imagine if we all watched the same video and thought:

“I may not understand the words, but I can see the joy.”

“This wasn’t made for me — and that’s okay.”

“Someone out there is dancing in their kitchen to this, and that matters.”

That kind of openness changes things.

That kind of softness bridges divides.

And at the end of the day, the most “American” thing we can do is allow people to show up as themselves without being punished for it.

🍯Honey Note

The world will try to convince you that someone who looks, sounds, or praises differently is someone to fear.

But the bravest, softest hearts — the ones who make this world better — stay open anyway.

Art is supposed to wake us up.

Music is supposed to move us.

And humans are supposed to be allowed to express themselves without being torn apart.

Perhaps if we stopped pouring outrage into moments that don’t truly matter, and started pouring compassion into the things that do, we would find each other again.

Bad Bunny is an American artist.

He represents millions of Americans.

He is as much “ours” as any singer born in Alabama, Tennessee, or New Mexico.

Bad Bunny didn’t divide America.

People’s fear did.

And fear only wins when the rest of us stay quiet.

This is me choosing not to stay quiet — lovingly, gently, but clearly.

Enjoy the joy.

Even when it isn’t your joy.

That’s where the freedom is.

May we all learn to enjoy the joy, even when it isn’t ours.

— MaryNell (🐝 Honey)