Super Bowl Halftime Uproar: Bad Bunny’s Act Sparks Patriotic Backlash

Paul Riverbank, 2/9/2026Bad Bunny's Super Bowl show sparks debate on American identity, Latino pride, and unity.

Only hours before Bad Bunny stepped onto the stage, social media was already ablaze. Jake Paul, not one to let a controversy pass him by, hammered home his stance in a post on X. He called for folks to flip the channel: “Purposefully turning off the halftime show,” he wrote. And that was just the start. Sitting beside Vice President JD Vance at the Winter Olympics, Jake made it clear—he felt the NFL was making a statement he couldn’t support. “A fake American citizen performing who publicly hates America. I cannot support that.” Strong words, tossed like a stone into an already riled-up pond.

A lot of this backlash boiled down to more than show business. Bad Bunny had been an outspoken critic of U.S. immigration enforcement during the Grammys. And his music? Sung entirely in Spanish, emphasizing his own roots instead of playing it safe for mass-market appeal. Critics quickly seized on this, questioning if he truly reflected “American” culture. Former President Donald Trump weighed in, as did sports broadcaster Michelle Tafoya. English-only halftime performances, it seemed, were the gold standard some expected—never mind the fact that Bad Bunny was, by every legal definition, as American as apple pie. Born in Puerto Rico, a U.S. territory, his citizenship was never even up for debate.

But where one Paul brother lights a match, the other pulls out the fire extinguisher. Logan Paul countered his sibling almost instantaneously: “Puerto Ricans are Americans & I’m happy they were given the opportunity to showcase the talent that comes from the island.” Brief, but to the point. Damian Priest, the WWE star and longtime friend of Bad Bunny’s, chimed in a little later, echoing Logan’s message about the power—and the potential—of such a platform.

Then there was Bad Bunny himself, who, for all the noise, simply stepped onto that Super Bowl stage without a hint of defensiveness. The words “The only thing more powerful than hate is love” glowed behind him as he danced through a phalanx of brightly clad performers. This wasn’t a sneering retort; it was a musical embrace. “Together we are America,” he shouted to the crowd, rattling off not just the names of states but countries throughout the Americas, from Mexico to Argentina, before hoisting a football emblazoned with the same phrase: “Together we are America.”

If you tuned in out of pure curiosity—or sentimentality—you might have noticed something else. This was not a halftime show sanded down to corporate-friendly blandness. Everything, from costume to choreography, felt like an explicit celebration of Latino identity. No English translations. No apologetic nods. For millions of viewers, especially those from Spanish-speaking backgrounds, it was a long-awaited affirmation—and maybe even a little overdue. After all, more than 20% of Americans speak a language other than English at home. Spanish-language radio, TV, and pop songs have become staples for a massive (and growing) segment of the population.

Of course, not everyone was eager for this shift. In certain corners, petitions cropped up demanding the NFL book only “traditional” acts—country singers, in particular. The thrust: Bad Bunny’s genre and style, his very presence, upended cherished ideas about what Super Bowl entertainment should represent. But the tides of culture rarely care for petitions, and the show marched on. It’s easy to forget how each new headliner restyles the halftime ritual. Just last year, Kendrick Lamar graced the field in faded jeans. Before that, Shakira and J.Lo lit up the stadium with a salsa-infused set.

Bad Bunny’s flair for the dramatic was unmistakable. He paired classic guayaberas—those cool, boxy Puerto Rican shirts—with tailored designer looks. At other events, he's worn custom-made suits that defy conventional expectations. Here was someone drawing from his past while pointing, unmistakably, toward the future.

For some viewers, all of this was disorienting, maybe even threatening. For others, especially those tired of cultural exclusion, it felt like long-overdue recognition. The Super Bowl show, for once, sounded unfamiliar to a segment of the audience who’ve grown up only seeing a narrow slice of American life in the mainstream spotlight.

And when the dust settles—the yeses, the noes, the hashtags and headlines—the giant “Together we are America” football still hovers in memory. The message was clear, though not everyone will hear it the same way. Even in these brief, shining moments, music and spectacle have a way of echoing beyond the field. The halftime show this year wasn’t only a setlist. It was a statement about who gets to belong, about pride worn without apology, and a reminder—maybe fleeting—that sometimes, unity really is the loudest note a performer can hit.

The Super Bowl halftime show almost always leaves people talking, but this year’s act – headlined by Puerto Rican star Bad Bunny – stirred up a storm even before the final confetti hit the turf. The debate felt raw, immediate, and at times, surprisingly personal.Only hours before Bad Bunny stepped onto the stage, social media was already ablaze. Jake Paul, not one to let a controversy pass him by, hammered home his stance in a post on X. He called for folks to flip the channel: “Purposefully turning off the halftime show,” he wrote. And that was just the start. Sitting beside Vice President JD Vance at the Winter Olympics, Jake made it clear—he felt the NFL was making a statement he couldn’t support. “A fake American citizen performing who publicly hates America. I cannot support that.” Strong words, tossed like a stone into an already riled-up pond.A lot of this backlash boiled down to more than show business. Bad Bunny had been an outspoken critic of U.S. immigration enforcement during the Grammys. And his music? Sung entirely in Spanish, emphasizing his own roots instead of playing it safe for mass-market appeal. Critics quickly seized on this, questioning if he truly reflected “American” culture. Former President Donald Trump weighed in, as did sports broadcaster Michelle Tafoya. English-only halftime performances, it seemed, were the gold standard some expected—never mind the fact that Bad Bunny was, by every legal definition, as American as apple pie. Born in Puerto Rico, a U.S. territory, his citizenship was never even up for debate.But where one Paul brother lights a match, the other pulls out the fire extinguisher. Logan Paul countered his sibling almost instantaneously: “Puerto Ricans are Americans & I’m happy they were given the opportunity to showcase the talent that comes from the island.” Brief, but to the point. Damian Priest, the WWE star and longtime friend of Bad Bunny’s, chimed in a little later, echoing Logan’s message about the power—and the potential—of such a platform.Then there was Bad Bunny himself, who, for all the noise, simply stepped onto that Super Bowl stage without a hint of defensiveness. The words “The only thing more powerful than hate is love” glowed behind him as he danced through a phalanx of brightly clad performers. This wasn’t a sneering retort; it was a musical embrace. “Together we are America,” he shouted to the crowd, rattling off not just the names of states but countries throughout the Americas, from Mexico to Argentina, before hoisting a football emblazoned with the same phrase: “Together we are America.”If you tuned in out of pure curiosity—or sentimentality—you might have noticed something else. This was not a halftime show sanded down to corporate-friendly blandness. Everything, from costume to choreography, felt like an explicit celebration of Latino identity. No English translations. No apologetic nods. For millions of viewers, especially those from Spanish-speaking backgrounds, it was a long-awaited affirmation—and maybe even a little overdue. After all, more than 20% of Americans speak a language other than English at home. Spanish-language radio, TV, and pop songs have become staples for a massive (and growing) segment of the population.Of course, not everyone was eager for this shift. In certain corners, petitions cropped up demanding the NFL book only “traditional” acts—country singers, in particular. The thrust: Bad Bunny’s genre and style, his very presence, upended cherished ideas about what Super Bowl entertainment should represent. But the tides of culture rarely care for petitions, and the show marched on. It’s easy to forget how each new headliner restyles the halftime ritual. Just last year, Kendrick Lamar graced the field in faded jeans. Before that, Shakira and J.Lo lit up the stadium with a salsa-infused set.Bad Bunny’s flair for the dramatic was unmistakable. He paired classic guayaberas—those cool, boxy Puerto Rican shirts—with tailored designer looks. At other events, he's worn custom-made suits that defy conventional expectations. Here was someone drawing from his past while pointing, unmistakably, toward the future.For some viewers, all of this was disorienting, maybe even threatening. For others, especially those tired of cultural exclusion, it felt like long-overdue recognition. The Super Bowl show, for once, sounded unfamiliar to a segment of the audience who’ve grown up only seeing a narrow slice of American life in the mainstream spotlight.And when the dust settles—the yeses, the noes, the hashtags and headlines—the giant “Together we are America” football still hovers in memory. The message was clear, though not everyone will hear it the same way. Even in these brief, shining moments, music and spectacle have a way of echoing beyond the field. The halftime show this year wasn’t only a setlist. It was a statement about who gets to belong, about pride worn without apology, and a reminder—maybe fleeting—that sometimes, unity really is the loudest note a performer can hit.