A MidWestern transgender woman trying to survive in the real life.

Tag: NFL

Bad Bunny, the Super Bowl, and the Politics of Identity

SANTA CLARA, CALIFORNIA – FEBRUARY 08: Bad Bunny performs onstage during the Apple Music Super Bowl LX Halftime Show at Levi’s Stadium on February 08, 2026 in Santa Clara, California. (Photo by Thearon W. Henderson/Getty Images)

The 2026 Super Bowl halftime show, headlined by Bad Bunny, quickly became one of the most culturally and politically charged performances in recent memory. Announced months in advance as the featured performer, Bad Bunny’s selection already signaled a shift in the NFL’s cultural positioning, reflecting the growing influence of Latino audiences in American media (CBS News, 2026). When he ultimately took the stage, performing largely in Spanish and centering Puerto Rican identity, the symbolism was unmistakable.

The performance was widely interpreted not just as entertainment, but as cultural assertion. Spanish-language lyrics dominated the set, and the staging highlighted themes of Latino pride, resilience, and collective identity. El País (2026) described the show as a “protest dance,” suggesting that the performance functioned as a statement of presence in a political climate often marked by contentious immigration debates and nationalist rhetoric. Rather than presenting overt political slogans, the symbolism operated through visibility: Latino culture on the largest televised stage in the United States.

To me, that is what made the performance powerful. It was not aggressive. It did not attack policy. It celebrated identity. The choice to foreground Spanish was not exclusionary—it was reflective of the lived reality of millions of Americans. In a country where Spanish is the second most spoken language, hearing it dominate the halftime stage felt less like disruption and more like acknowledgment. Representation, in this case, became a form of quiet resistance.

President Donald Trump responded sharply. According to ABC News (2026), Trump called the halftime show a “slap in the face to our country.” Reuters (2026) reported that he described the performance as “absolutely terrible,” while People (2026) noted his criticism that “nobody understands a word this guy is saying.” His reaction framed the performance not as a cultural celebration but as a deviation from traditional American norms.

The criticism did not stop with the President. Entertainment Weekly (2026) reported that House Republicans called for an investigation into the halftime show, citing concerns over its choreography and presentation. The backlash extended beyond language into broader anxieties about morality, cultural standards, and national identity. Meanwhile, reactions were far from uniformly negative. The Guardian (2026) documented widespread praise from artists and public figures who described the performance as joyful and affirming, with some viewers saying it made them feel “proudly American.”

That divide reveals something significant. The controversy was not really about music or choreography. It was about competing visions of America. One vision views national identity as rooted in linguistic and cultural uniformity. The other sees American identity as evolving, multilingual, and shaped by migration and diversity. Bad Bunny’s performance fell squarely into the latter camp.

In my view, the halftime show reflected the America that already exists rather than the one some political leaders nostalgically imagine. A multilingual performance on the Super Bowl stage does not diminish American identity—it expands it. Cultural confidence means embracing diversity, not fearing it. The polarized reaction to the show underscores how entertainment events have become symbolic arenas where broader political tensions play out.

Ultimately, the 2026 Super Bowl halftime show was more than a concert. It was a cultural mirror. Whether one saw it as celebratory or confrontational depended largely on how one defines Americanness itself. The performance—and the reaction from President Trump—demonstrates that debates over language, culture, and belonging remain central to American political life.

References

ABC News. (2026). Trump calls Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl halftime show a “slap in the face to our country.” https://abcnews.go.com/US/trump-calls-bad-bunnys-super-bowl-halftime-show/story?id=129980124

CBS News. (2026). Bad Bunny will headline the 2026 Super Bowl halftime show. https://www.cbsnews.com/news/bad-bunny-2026-super-bowl-halftime-show/

El País. (2026, February 8). Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl: The protest dance of Latinos in the US. https://english.elpais.com/culture/2026-02-08/bad-bunnys-super-bowl-the-protest-dance-of-latinos-in-the-us.html

Entertainment Weekly. (2026). House Republicans call to investigate Bad Bunny Super Bowl halftime show over “widespread twerking, grinding, pelvic thrusts.” https://ew.com/house-republicans-call-for-investigation-of-bad-bunny-super-bowl-halftime-show-11904174

People. (2026). Trump lashes out at Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl halftime show: “Nobody understands a word this guy is saying.” https://people.com/super-bowl-2026-trump-lashes-out-bad-bunny-halftime-show-11902396

Reuters. (2026, February 9). Trump says Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl halftime was “absolutely terrible.” https://www.reuters.com/world/us/trump-says-bad-bunnys-super-bowl-halftime-show-was-absolutely-terrible-2026-02-09/

The Guardian. (2026, February 9). “Made me feel proudly American”: Stars react to Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl show. https://www.theguardian.com/music/2026/feb/09/reactions-bad-bunny-super-bowl-halftime-show

Still Standing, Needing Help

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON – DECEMBER 18: Kyren Williams #23 of the Los Angeles Rams is tackled by Leonard Williams #99 of the Seattle Seahawks during the first half at Lumen Field on December 18, 2025 in Seattle, Washington. (Photo by Soobum Im/Getty Images)

I keep reminding myself of the most important truth first: the Los Angeles Rams are going to the playoffs. That much is secure. This season is not slipping away. And yet, the Week 16 loss to the Seattle Seahawks still feels like a punch to the gut, because it wasn’t about survival—it was about position, pride, and control.

For weeks, the Rams held the number one seed in the NFC. Not by accident, not by luck, but by grinding through a season that demanded resilience and belief. This team earned that spot. Watching them play for most of that Seahawks game, it felt like they were defending it with conviction. The offense moved with confidence. Stafford threw like a quarterback who knows exactly who he is at this stage of his career. Puka Nacua looked every bit like the cornerstone he’s become. For long stretches, it felt like we were watching a team that belonged at the top.

That’s what made the ending hurt so much. Not panic, not disbelief—just that sinking realization that the grip had loosened. The Rams didn’t fall out of the playoff picture; they fell out of control. When the game slipped into overtime and then finally ended, it wasn’t the fear of missing January football that settled in. It was the knowledge that the number one seed, the one they had protected for so long, was no longer theirs to command.

The Rams are still dangerous. Still capable. Still a team no one should want to face once the playoffs begin. But now the path has changed. To get that top seed back, they’re going to need help. They have to take care of their own business down the stretch, absolutely—but that alone may not be enough. Somewhere else, someone else has to stumble. Another contender has to drop a game. Another result has to break just right. That’s a frustrating place to be when you’ve already proven you can stand above the rest.

As a fan, this is the kind of moment that tests your emotional balance. I’m proud of this team. I believe in them. I know they can win on the road, in hostile environments, against anyone. But I also know how much the number one seed matters. Home-field advantage matters. Rest matters. That extra edge matters. Losing control of it doesn’t erase the season—but it complicates it.

And still, I’ll be there. Watching every snap. Hoping for help while trusting the Rams to do what they can control. Because even with this loss, even with the standings shifting, this team has already shown who they are. They’re in the playoffs. They’re still fighting. And if the road to the Super Bowl has become a little harder, then so be it. Being a Rams fan means believing they can walk it anyway.

Faithful to the Rams Since Childhood

When I think back to 1980, a year filled with iconic cultural moments and personal milestones, one event stands out vividly in my memory: Super Bowl XIV. On that day, January 20, 1980, the Los Angeles Rams squared off against the Pittsburgh Steelers in a showdown that cemented my lifelong fandom for the Rams.

I was nine years old at the time and didn’t know too much about the game itself, but it was thrilling to watch. The Rams entered the Super Bowl as the underdogs, facing off against a dynasty. The Steelers, led by Terry Bradshaw, were going for their fourth championship in six years. Meanwhile, the Rams had clawed their way to the big game for the first time in franchise history, showcasing grit and determination. Their resilience mirrored something in me—a belief that with heart and hard work, anything was possible.

That game was a rollercoaster of emotions. I remember watching Vince Ferragamo, the Rams’ quarterback, defy expectations with his poise and precision. There was a moment in the third quarter when it felt like the Rams might actually pull it off. Ferragamo connected with Billy Waddy for a 50-yard pass, setting up a touchdown that put the Rams ahead. My heart soared. For those fleeting moments, it seemed as if the impossible was within reach.

But as the fourth quarter unfolded, the Steelers’ experience and star power took over. Lynn Swann and John Stallworth made spectacular plays, and the Rams’ defense, which had fought valiantly, couldn’t hold off Bradshaw and his offense forever. The final score, 31-19, didn’t tell the whole story. The Rams had played with courage and passion, and their underdog spirit had won me over completely.

As a Rams fan living in Chicagoland, my devotion to the team has always set me apart. In a region dominated by Bears fans, I’ve proudly worn my Rams gear and cheered them on through thick and thin. The 1980s were an especially intriguing era to follow the team. Although the Rams didn’t make it back to the Super Bowl during that decade, they were consistently competitive, making the playoffs nearly every year under head coach John Robinson.

I admired players like Eric Dickerson, whose electrifying runs made him one of the greatest running backs of all time. His 1984 season, when he set the single-season rushing record with 2,105 yards, remains one of the most remarkable individual performances in NFL history. The Rams’ defense, nicknamed the “Fearsome Foursome” in earlier eras, continued to be a force, anchored by players like Jack Youngblood and Nolan Cromwell.

Despite their success, the Rams often found themselves just short of the ultimate prize. Heartbreaking playoff losses to teams like the Chicago Bears and the San Francisco 49ers defined much of the decade. Yet, their persistence and ability to rebuild year after year only deepened my admiration for the team. Even from afar, I felt a connection to their determination and grit, traits that resonated with me as I navigated life in the Midwest.

When the team moved to St. Louis in 1995, I was excited about the opportunity to have them closer geographically. While they were based in St. Louis, I made it a point to attend at least one game every season. Those trips were special—a chance to see my team in person and connect with other fans. Watching the Rams grow into a powerhouse during the late 1990s was exhilarating. The 1999 season, when they earned the nickname “The Greatest Show on Turf,” was nothing short of magical. Led by Kurt Warner, Marshall Faulk, and Isaac Bruce, the Rams had one of the most explosive offenses in NFL history. Their Super Bowl XXXIV victory over the Tennessee Titans was unforgettable, especially that final defensive stand that sealed the win.

Even during the lean years that followed, my loyalty to the team never wavered. The sense of community I felt attending games in St. Louis was unmatched, and those moments remain some of my favorite memories as a fan.

Their move back to LA in 2016 changed things for me logistically, but my passion for the team remains as strong as ever. It is my hope to one day see a game at their current stadium, SoFi Stadium, and experience the energy of the Rams’ home crowd once again.

Today, I look back on that day in 1980 with gratitude. Super Bowl XIV wasn’t just the beginning of my love for the Rams; it was the start of a lifelong relationship with football, a sport that has brought me community, connection, and countless memories. The Rams taught me that even in defeat, there is honor in giving your all and leaving it all on the field. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.

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