Bad Bunny Is the Representation of America

Sundays’s Super Bowl had people mad in a way that told on them.

What blew my mind was the performance. What irritated me was the people who were so offended by it.

Bad Bunny hit that stage and gave a performance that felt like a message, not just a set. And what blew my mind wasn’t the show—it was how many people were offended by the idea of Latino pride being loud on America’s biggest platform.

Like it was new. Like he’s never been there before. Like Spanish on TV is a threat.

I don’t speak a lot of Spanish. I caught pieces, not everything. But I didn’t need a full translation to understand the energy. Music is universal. And what I felt was pride, resistance, joy, and that unspoken line in the sand: we’re not going anywhere.

And I loved that for my Latino sisters and brothers. I loved it for my girls, too—because they’re half Spanish, and representation hits different when it’s your own kids’ reflection on the screen.

Who really represents America?

People love to say the President is the representation of America.

And I’m not going to lie—lately it’s been easy to feel like that’s true. Like greed, capitalism, and cruelty are the loudest parts of the story. Like the rich get richer, the poor get blamed, and the whole thing is dressed up as “business.”

But here’s what I’m refusing to forget:

That is not the only America.

There’s another America that doesn’t get the same spotlight—the America that looks like humanity. People taking care of each other. People showing up for each other. People loving out loud. People building community even when the system is trying to keep us isolated.

And that’s why I’m saying it: Bad Bunny is a better representation of America than Trump.

Not because he’s perfect.

Because what he brought to that stage was culture, pride, joy, and belonging—and that’s what real America looks like when it’s not being filtered through fear.

The message people keep missing: Together, we are America

A lot of folks are acting like the performance was “political” like that’s a dirty word.

But here’s what I saw: a reminder that America has never been one sound, one language, one story.

And according to multiple recaps of the halftime show, the message was made explicit at the end when Bad Bunny held up a football that read: “Together we are America.”

That’s not a threat. That’s a fact.

The fake outrage vs the real numbers

Social media tried to make it look like everybody was mad.

But that’s the game: highlight the “against” and hide the “for.”

Because if we ever really saw how many people are for us—for community, for culture, for each other—we’d stop shrinking.

And some people need us to believe we’re alone.

I grew up inside the culture

I was born and raised in the Bronx. My grandparents are still in Brooklyn. And if you’re from New York, you already know—Latino culture isn’t “nearby.” It’s family.

Growing up, my Hispanic people included me like I belonged—even when I didn’t understand every word. And that taught me something I still carry:

Understanding love is not a language.

Same with music.

You can feel happiness when it’s real. You can feel pride when it’s earned. You can feel tradition when it’s honored. You can feel the love and support moving through a crowd—even if you don’t catch every lyric.

And as an empath? Baby, if you’re happy, I’m happy.

Why our joy bothers them

Here’s the part people don’t want to say out loud: our joy makes some folks angry.

Because we’ve done nothing but be our genuine selves—and still found ways to shine.

They want us sad.

They want us ashamed.

They want us quiet.

And when we’re not? When we’re proud anyway? When we celebrate anyway? When we build anyway?

They start trying to take superficial things away like that’ll dim the light.

But that’s the difference between us and them:

Some people can have everything and still not shine.

And it bothers them when people with less can light up a whole stadium.

The light is out there—they just don’t want you to see it

They overload us with evil, outrage, and fear on purpose.

Because if you’re constantly flooded with darkness, you don’t have the energy to look for the light.

And it’s wild that we have to search for good news.

But I’m telling you: the light is out there.

You just have to grab onto it.

Connect with it.

And the more of it that comes together, the brighter we get.

What I’m taking from this

• Representation isn’t extra. It’s oxygen.

• People call anything “political” when it reminds them they’re not the default.

• Music is a language, even when you don’t know every word.

• We don’t need everyone. We need our people.

So that’s what I’m doing.

I’m finding my people. I’m building community. I’m pouring into the spaces that pour back.

And I’m letting the rest fall to the wayside.

Art Drop: “The Light List” (10 minutes)

If you’ve been overloaded by darkness, try this:

1. Write the title: “Proof of Light.”

2. List 10 things that are still good (a person, a song, a memory, a community, a moment).

3. Circle 1 thing you can connect with today.

4. Do it—text them, play the song, take the walk, join the space, make the art.

Small connections build big safety.

Word from Ty

I’m not ignoring what’s wrong in this country. I’m just refusing to let the loudest, ugliest parts of it define what America is. Bad Bunny’s performance reminded me that real America is humanity—culture, pride, love, and people taking care of each other. There are more of us than them, even when the internet tries to convince us otherwise. So I’m going to keep finding my people, grabbing onto the light, and protecting my peace—because together, we are America.