Joy, Borders, and Thirteen Minutes
- Val Hernández

- Feb 8
- 4 min read
Updated: Apr 1
No one is illegal on stolen land. Bad Bunny didn’t say those words during the Super Bowl halftime show, but everything about it did: the flags, the languages, the bodies on stage, the refusal to center a single nation. And still, the performance felt a bit rushed, compressed, as if joy itself had overstayed its welcome.
No song was performed in full. No moment stayed long enough to be digested. Just as the visuals, the movement, and the message began to settle, it was over. Yes, the average Super Bowl halftime show runs between 12 and 15 minutes, and Benito’s clocked in at around 13, which was technically within range, but firmly on the short edge. For everything he was carrying, I don't think it was enough time. Not for the music, and certainly not for the message. Every creative choice on that stage was an argument.
"Nunca dejé de creer en mí y tú también deberías de creer en ti, vales más de lo que piensas" shared Benito in his introduction.
Many expected Bad Bunny to open with "La Mudanza", a song explicitly rooted in migration and lineage. Instead, he began with "Tití Me Preguntó", the song his U.S. audience mainly recognizes. Built around the familiar “auntie” question about settling down, the track bridged two cultural realities that are often framed as incompatible but are, in practice, deeply aligned. From there, the pivot to "Yo Perreo Sola" made the first clear statement of the night: autonomy of the body, of identity, of presence.

Some assumed he would be wearing a dress, just like he did in that music video, in honor of queer visibility. He didn't. But this wasn’t an absence of representation. Dancers were openly partnered as WLW and MLM, without spectacle or explanation. The choice suggested a shift in emphasis: immigration and permanence at the forefront, without abandoning queer visibility or bodily autonomy. With that, let's talk about the visuals, which traced a very deliberate geography familiar to many Latin American barrios: a plantain grove, his iconic Casita, bodegas, broken lampposts. We saw everything and everyone —from jíbaros in pavas to celebrities—without hierarchy.
I found it interesting how Benito stayed wearing full white the entire performance, while his dancers (and guests) wore either beige, brown, or, by the end of the show, vibrant colors. Reading about color theory, it's possible the intention was something along these lines: muted, neutral colors represent land, labor, a before in someone's story; then, they find their colors. They stop occupying space, they release themselves from constraint. There's abundance, visibility, and refusal to be muted. It's unapologetic presence. But, again, just as the color arrived... the performance ended.
"Baila sin miedo" said Benito.
I'm getting ahead, let's rewind a little bit. The guest appearances came and went almost too quickly to register. Cardi B, Pedro Pascal, Miko, and others appeared at La Casita for seconds, so briefly that many viewers had to look them up afterward. But this was not a failure of pacing; it was the point. The spotlight was not meant for individual celebrities, but for collective presence across age, nationality, and background. Lady Gaga’s salsa rendition of "Die With a Smile" was a standout moment; not just musically, but symbolically. Benito chose to share the stage with an American artist whose own family history is rooted in migration, even if European migration is rarely framed with the same suspicion or hostility. The contrast lingered.

We also got a musical appearance by Ricky Martin, who sang quite a short excerpt of "LO QUE LE PASÓ A HAWAii". I was expecting a bit more of this song due to it's powerful message, but I also get that it's a bit too slow for this type of show. The ONE thing I didn't like about the performance was Martin... I'm sorry, but it just didn't fit his voice, it felt strained and painful — sorry, mom, I know you LOVE Menudo.
"NUEVAYoL" and a semi-electronic version of "CAFé CON RON" transformed the stage into a moving map of migration. The choreography emphasized both circulation and symmetry, with dancers weaving in and out alongside live musicians, blurring the line between performer and community. The bodies on stage mirrored the song’s central idea: identity in motion. This was not New York as destination, but as process, built by those who arrive, adapt, and remain. In a performance already resisting borders, movement itself became the message.
The funny thing is that while Benito was on top of a lamppost singing "EL Apagón" — a critique of those who mimic Latino culture without its substance (or, how he says it, "les falta sazón")— a parallel “All-American Halftime Show” unfolded in protest of his presence. Sponsored by Turning Point USA, movement created by the late Charlie Kirk, the alternative show featured artists whose public personas rely on exclusion and aggression. The contrast was unavoidable.
Where one performance clung to a shrinking version of America, Bad Bunny kept expanding it beyond borders, languages, and flags. And yes, Benito did, in fact, perform entirely in Spanish. At the end of the day, it's the language of his work, his audience, his world. The only English heard on stage came from Gaga, plus at the end of the set when he said “God bless America,” only to immediately expand the phrase beyond U.S. borders, naming countries throughout the entire continent, and affirming: “Y mi patria, Puerto Rico, seguimos aquí.” As the screen read "The only thing more powerful than hate is love", dancers filled the stage carrying flags from across the Americas. If In the Heights ever gets a re-imagining, this halftime show should sit at the center of its vision board.




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