Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl performance wasn’t just a show—it was a cultural earthquake. For Puerto Ricans like me, it felt like a mirror reflecting our struggles, our pride, and our unyielding spirit. But here’s where it gets controversial: while some celebrate his global success, others question whether his music truly represents the island’s complexities. Let’s dive in.
Like Bad Bunny, I’ve been told my Puerto Rican Spanish is unintelligible. Yet, it’s this very language—our language—that he boldly brought to a global stage, performing almost entirely in Spanish for 125 million viewers. That’s no small feat. But this is the part most people miss: his performance wasn’t just about entertainment. It was a statement. From the sugarcane fields to El Morro, his stage design was a love letter to Puerto Rico, a reminder of our history and resilience.
Born Benito Martínez Ocasio, Bad Bunny’s journey from packing groceries in a supermarket to headlining the Super Bowl is one many of us can relate to. I, too, grew up in a small town, far from the hustle of San Juan, where trips to the city felt like grand adventures. Like him, I learned English as an adult, carrying the accent of my island wherever I go. And like him, I’ve felt the weight of Puerto Rico’s challenges: the crumbling infrastructure, the political turmoil, the mass migration. These are the themes he weaves into his music, blending romance with raw commentary on our reality.
Take his song LA MuDANZA, where he sings, ‘People were killed here for waving the flag, that’s why I carry it everywhere.’ It’s a powerful reminder of Puerto Rico’s fight for identity within the shadow of the U.S. But does everyone feel this connection? Not quite. Bad Bunny remains a polarizing figure, his lyrics and image resonating more with some than others. And that’s okay—it’s part of what makes his art so compelling.
His music is a masterclass in symbolism. During El Apagón, he recreated Puerto Rico’s failing electrical grid, a stark critique of the island’s struggles. He donned the pava, the traditional farmer’s hat, and referenced the endangered Puerto Rican crested toad—symbols of our culture and our fight for survival. But here’s the question: Is his global success a win for Puerto Rico, or does it risk oversimplifying our complex reality?
Bad Bunny has also shattered genre boundaries, blending reggaeton with salsa, merengue, and even trap. As Professor Albert Laguna noted, this creates a bridge across generations, inviting conversation. But let’s not forget: reggaeton itself was once marginalized, associated with poor, Afro-Caribbean communities. Artists like Daddy Yankee and Tego Calderón paved the way, but Bad Bunny has taken it to unprecedented heights, winning a Grammy for an all-Spanish album. Is this a triumph for Puerto Rican Spanish, or does it risk commodifying our culture for a global audience?
What’s undeniable is the impact. Producer MAG called his Grammy-winning album Debí Tirar Más Fotos a ‘cultural movement,’ and this Sunday, we saw that movement in action. But as we celebrate, let’s also ask: What does it mean to represent Puerto Rico on a global stage? And who gets to decide?
Bad Bunny’s performance was personal—not just for him, but for all of us who see ourselves in his story. It was a reminder that our language, our struggles, and our culture matter. But it also sparked a conversation that’s far from over. So, I’ll leave you with this: Does Bad Bunny’s success unite us, or does it highlight the divides within our community? Let’s talk about it in the comments.
