Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl Show Was a Love Letter to Puerto Rico, the Americas and the Latino Diaspora

Through jíbaro imagery, music and ritual, the halftime show mapped Puerto Rico’s past and present onto the biggest stage in U.S. pop culture.

Bad Bunny performs at Super Bowl LX halftime between the Seattle Seahawks and New England Patriots in Santa Clara, Calif. on Feb. 8, 2026. (Stephen Lam / San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images)

Like a 19th-century sugar cane plantation brought to life, Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl halftime show staged a visually rich jíbaro vision of Puerto Rico—the foundational cultural figure representing the island’s self-sufficient, hardworking mountain farmers—in Santa Clara, Calif., a region long shaped by Spanish colonization and U.S. expansion, on land where Ohlone (specifically Tamien/Tamyen) people lived alongside coastal Miwuk, Patwin and Yokut communities.

The show’s imagery underscored layered histories of colonization and empire that resonated beyond the stadium.

Bad Bunny’s sugar cane plantation—with humans literally becoming the cane—blurred the lines between Puerto Rico’s status as a U.S. territory acquired through the Spanish-American War in 1898, the commodification of enslaved people, the invisibility of Latina labor except when criminalized, and Afro-Caribbean cultural pride in sound and movement.

Starting with the jíbaro cuatro guitar, the reggaetonero launched into some of his most iconic songs—“Tití Me Preguntó,” “Yo Perreo Sola,” “Safaera” and “VOY A LLeVARTE PA PR”—all nodding to the body-bumping sonic trajectory of the island’s popular youth and urban Afro-Caribbean dances, like bomba y plena, perreo, salsa and bachata.

“Buenas tardes, California. Mi nombre es Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio.” At minute four, this act of staged naming became a gesture of self-determination against violence (“say his name/say her name”) and a reaffirmation of Spanish—his language, and a colonial one—rooted in a politics of refusal.

In a supernatural off-white suit by Zara, Benito’s structured look gestured to fast fashion—something his fan base can access—while appearing angelic and referencing the island’s production of natural fibers worn by rural jíbaro campesinos, including the pava, made of handwoven palm leaves and symbolizing the island’s agricultural heritage and cultural identity. The pava was also worn by the dance troupes that foregrounded the performance.

Like a santero conjuring spirits with trance-like lyrics that move the body, the orishas—deities representing natural forces—were with us in the Super Bowl halftime ritual. Here, drumming, dancing and divination offered guidance, protection and healing for Latino and Latina viewers and their allies alike.

Similarly, la casa de Benito—a transplanted set from his multibillion-dollar concert residency in Puerto Rico—was staffed by Latino heavyweights like rapper Cardi B (Dominican Republic, Trinidad and Tobago), actor Pedro Pascal (Chile), and actor Jessica Alba (Mexico). Dressed in the island’s color palette—warm woven palm fibers, sisal hemp and lace created by Zara—they blended together: a multiethnic, multiracial swath of Puerto Rico and the U.S. Latino/Latina diaspora.

Presenting his Grammy to his 5-year-old self, played by Lincoln Fox, and flanked by businesses he patronizes, the scene unfolded as a parranda—traditional music, singing, eating and drinking from house to house—culminating in a communal wedding and celebration of Las Américas. His performance included sonic references to Daddy Yankee, one of the first Boricua reggaetoneros to go platinum, then into the wedding sequence and Lady Gaga’s salsa rendition of “Die With a Smile,” complete with a 1950s-style rumbera dress. The performance flowed into a salsa medley—the New York Puerto Rican diaspora’s sonic tradition—referencing Willie Colón, bomba y plena, and the call-and-response love of “NUEVAYoL.”

One of the most poignant moments of the show shifted to Ricky Martin’s rendition of “LO QUE LE PASÓ A HAWAii,” foreshadowing Puerto Rico’s future-past and recalling the U.S. takeover of the sovereign kingdom of Hawaiʻi, once governed by a queen and later reshaped by gentrification, the displacement of Native peoples and a mono-economy dependent on tourism.

Dancers perched on telephone poles harkened to the longest blackout in U.S. history: After Hurricane María, it took 328 days to fully restore power to all customers who lost electricity. A low point in this era, during the first Trump administration, was when the president tossed paper towels to suffering residents in a moment widely seen as mockery.

Without missing a beat, Bad Bunny’s “God Bless America” functioned as a salute to the independent republics of the Americas, with his beloved island invoked at the end of the roll call.

A love letter to Puerto Rico, its diaspora and Latino people across the globe, the performance suggested that love was indeed stronger than hate, as millions danced to the sounds of freedom, whether they recognized it or not.

About

Nicole M. Guidotti-Hernández is a professor at Emory and Charles Warren fellow at Harvard. She received her doctorate degree from Cornell University in English, with a graduate minor in Latina/o studies in 2004. She is the author of Unspeakable Violence: Narratives of Citizenship Mourning and Loss in Chicana/o and U.S. Mexico National Imaginaries.