By now, most of us have heard that Bad Bunny will perform at the Super Bowl in February 2026. The game always commands national attention, but this time, it’s sending "MAGA-landia" into a meltdown—that mythical place where folks wave flags, eat wings and nachos, and rage about “their” culture being under attack.
The outrage is almost comical. Marjorie Taylor Greene now wants to make English the “official language”—a tired, punitive gesture meant to silence Brown communities. We’ve heard that tune before, and it’s still off-key.
But the real question is: Why did the NFL choose Bad Bunny? It’s not because they suddenly care about Latinos. They don’t care about our culture, language, or history. What they do understand is demographics and money.
The United States is well on its way to becoming a minority-majority nation, and Latinos are driving that shift. No matter how many of us that ICE and MAGA want to deport, we are still here. Our community now generates more than $4 trillion annually in GDP. That’s power—and it’s exactly what fuels the MAGA panic, anger, and meltdown.
For over a century, assimilationists have pushed one vision of America: English-speaking, White, and Western European. Everyone else was expected to abandon their language and heritage and feel grateful just to belong. Some of us have even bought into this. But this fantasy was always false.
Multiculturalism has been America’s reality since before its founding. Spanish, for instance, was spoken here long before the American Constitution was written. “English Only” and white cultural supremacy were forced ideas—never natural ones.
Yes, English matters. It’s the current common language of law, commerce, and literature. But it’s not the only one—and speaking Spanish is as American as pan dulce. It’s also constitutionally protected.
Which brings us back to Bad Bunny... Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio is one hundred percent American—bilingual, bicultural, and unapologetically Puerto Rican. Puerto Rico became a U.S. colony in 1898 after the Spanish-American War. Puerto Ricans are U.S. citizens, even though those on the island can’t vote for president. Let that sink in.
Across all Latino communities—Chicanos, Mexicans, Dominicans, Cubans, Central and South Americans—few things unite us like language. A 2023 Pew Research study found that 65 percent of Latinos say it’s very important that future generations speak Spanish; only 5 percent said it’s not important at all.
So, when Bad Bunny takes the stage, he’s not just performing. He’s representing cultural pride and defiance—the right to exist in Spanish and as a Latino, on the biggest stage in the world. Bad Bunny’s presence challenges U.S. policies on immigration, poverty in Puerto Rico, and the colonial mindset that keeps Latinos “in their place.” He might even be challenging America’s continued colonial rule of Puerto Rico.
Something he’s been singing about since 2016 when he broke into the business with his song “Soy Peor,” commenting on social issues in Puerto Rico. He hasn’t stopped since. Just listen to his latest album “Nadie Sabe Lo Que Va a Pasar Manana,” a 17-track collection that pays tribute to Puerto Rico and includes songs like “Lo Que Le Paso A Hawaii,” warning about gentrification and over-tourism in his homeland, urging folks to hold on to the Puerto Rican flag.
By singing entirely in Spanish and refusing to apologize, he’s telling millions of us to stop sitting on the sidelines. His concerts bring both pride and revenue to Puerto Rico. His art speaks to communities terrorized by ICE and ignored by cowardly politicians. He’s pushing boundaries around gender, language, and sovereignty—topics many still fear to say out loud.
For some, seeing a Brown man speak Spanish and—God forbid—wear a dress is unbearable. For others, it’s liberation.
Bad Bunny might just be this generation’s Benito Juárez—a reformer wielding art instead of law, rhythm instead of decrees. Juárez liberated a nation. Bad Bunny just might be the catalyst for liberating a people. Maybe he’s not only liberating Puerto Ricans.
And the best part? He speaks perfect English. In fact, his mother taught English. He just chooses not to bow to it. He chooses Spanish as a message of resistance. He chooses Puerto Rico. He chooses to love his people loudly, defiantly, and in his own language. That’s not ingratitude—it’s freedom set to a reggaetón beat. Now that’s a message anyone can understand. So, when Mr. Bunny challenges Americans to learn Spanish in the next four months, let's take him up on the challenge.
