As a therapist working with second-generation Canadians, I often hear clients describe the exhausting weight of living between two worlds. The anxiety of never feeling “Canadian enough” while also not being “enough” of their heritage culture. The burnout from constant code-switching. The pressure to honour their parents’ sacrifices while building their own lives. The quiet grief of feeling invisible in both spaces.
Last Sunday’s Super Bowl LX halftime show reminded me why cultural representation isn’t just entertainment—it’s healing.
Bad Bunny’s performance drew 128 million viewers worldwide, making it one of the most-watched halftime shows in history. But beyond the numbers, the show was a 13-minute declaration of cultural pride, a political statement wrapped in joy, and a collective exhale for millions who rarely see themselves reflected on the world’s biggest stage. It was also deeply therapeutic—whether Bad Bunny realized it or not.
The performance opened with a man wearing a pava (traditional Puerto Rican straw hat) standing in a sugar cane field, declaring: “Qué rico es ser latino”—How wonderful it is to be Latino. That simple statement, before a single note was sung, set the tone. In a political climate where speaking Spanish is called “foreign,” where our cultures are labelled “disgusting,” where second-generation Canadians are told to be grateful for the opportunity to be here—that opening line was defiance. It was also healing.
Bad Bunny emerged wearing a white jersey with “Ocasio” on the back (his mother’s surname and his actual last name) and the number 64, likely honouring his mother’s birth year. As he launched into “Tití Me Preguntó,” he walked through a recreated Puerto Rican countryside filled with cultural touchstones: farmers in pavas harvesting sugar cane, a vendor selling piraguas (Puerto Rican snow cones), women getting their nails done, a group of men playing dominoes, and boxers Xander Zayas (Puerto Rican) and Emiliano Vargas (Mexican American) training side by side—a symbol of unity between two boxing powerhouse cultures.
These weren’t random set pieces. Each element told a story about Puerto Rican history, labour, community, and resistance. The sugar cane fields directly referenced the island’s colonial exploitation by Spain and later economic manipulation by the United States. The everyday cultural scenes—dominos, nail salons, street vendors—celebrated the beauty in ordinary Puerto Rican life that’s often overlooked or dismissed as “too ethnic” by mainstream culture.
For second-generation Canadians watching, these moments likely resonated deeply. How many times have you been told your food smells weird? That your music is too loud? That your family is too close, too involved, too much? Bad Bunny was saying: this is beautiful exactly as it is. We don’t need to sanitize it, minimize it, or translate it for anyone’s comfort.
Honouring the Pioneers
During a trust fall moment, Celia Cruz’s “Quimbara” played—a tribute to one of salsa’s greatest pioneers, connecting Bad Bunny’s contemporary sound to the foundational artists who came before. The reggaeton section honored the genre’s pioneers with samples from Tego Calderón’s “Pa’ Que Retozen,” Don Omar’s “Dale Don Dale,” Daddy Yankee’s “Gasolina,” and Héctor & Tito’s “Tra-Tra.”
La Casita appeared on stage—the vibrant pink replica of a traditional Puerto Rican home that became iconic during Bad Bunny’s 2024 residency. Inside, celebrity guests including Pedro Pascal, Cardi B, Karol G, Jessica Alba, and Young Miko danced together, embodying the communal spirit of a marquesina party where everyone gathers.
Representation and Inclusivity
Bad Bunny has always championed inclusivity. Queerness. Different body types. Different skin tones. If you haven’t attended his concerts, you might not realise this—but the halftime show was pure Benito. This is what he’s always done. This is who he’s always been.
The coquí frog—Puerto Rico’s beloved national symbol—appears throughout the performance and the “DtMF” album artwork. This small tree frog is becoming extinct due to environmental degradation, making it a poignant metaphor for Puerto Rican culture and identity under threat.
Believe in Yourself
During the song “Monaco”, Bad Bunny broke the fourth wall, looking directly into the camera to deliver an intimate message: “Cree siempre en ti”—always believe in yourself. It’s a testament to his journey from bagging groceries at a Puerto Rican supermarket ten years ago to headlining the most-watched entertainment event in the world. The message is clear: your worth isn’t determined by others’ expectations. Your dreams are valid, even when the world tells you they’re impossible.
This brings me to bell hooks’ words:
“Every time you reclaim your language, your dress, your traditions, you are dismantling the lie that you must be someone else to succeed.”
This reclamation is therapeutic work. For second-generation Canadians, the pressure to assimilate—to minimize accents, anglicize names, or hide cultural practices—creates what I call “cultural code-switching exhaustion.” When clients see their culture celebrated rather than erased, it validates the parts of themselves they’ve been told to hide. This validation is foundational to healing intergenerational trauma and building authentic self-worth.
A Healing Moment
The performance continued with Lady Gaga’s appearance—one of my favourite moments that made me emotional, including the real live wedding that took place. Her performance was beautiful. She embraced salsa, her song was adjusted to the rhythm, the percussion, the instruments. Her outfit was based on the Puerto Rico flag and Latin culture.
As a Latina who grew up experiencing racism, watching Lady Gaga honour salsa without appropriating it felt revolutionary. She didn’t centre herself or claim the spotlight—she adjusted her performance to complement Benito’s vision, the way we so often adjust ourselves to fit into dominant culture. For once, we weren’t the ones code-switching. That role reversal was healing in ways that are hard to articulate if you haven’t lived it.
Lady Gaga’s salsa-infused “Die With a Smile” evoked the remixes we love on YouTube—familiar songs transformed through Latin rhythms, like Bruno Mars’ “Just the Way You Are” reimagined as bachata. But this time, it wasn’t a remix by a random creator—it was the actual artist honouring our culture on the world’s biggest stage.
Bridging Generations
The show then continued with “Baile Inolvidable” (one of my favourite songs since the album came out), and he reminded us what Latino parties look like, with a kid sleeping on a chair (yes, that happens because we are never done partying).
“NUEVAYoL” bridges generations through music. The song opens with a sample from El Gran Combo de Puerto Rico’s 1975 salsa classic “Un Verano en Nueva York,” performed by Andy Montañez—a song familiar to anyone who grew up in the ’70s New York Nuyorican community. When the track drops into reggaeton, TikTok filled with videos of grandparents lighting up with recognition at the opening notes, then breaking into dance when Bad Bunny’s dembow beat kicked in. The song became an intergenerational anthem, proving that cultural evolution doesn’t mean cultural erasure.
During the halftime show, he used the song again to showcase Latin culture—from the salsa moves, to the store in the background (la marqueta), the barber shop, the neighbourhoods we all grew up in. And then he gave his Grammy to a child (another healing moment), representing himself as a kid, and said “cree siempre en ti”—always believe in yourself. Another reminder not to lose hope.
The Political Message
One of the performance’s most politically powerful moments came when Ricky Martin—the Puerto Rican icon who paved the way for Latin artists in the ’90s by learning English and conforming to American expectations—sang “Lo Que Le Pasó a Hawaii.” The irony was deliberate: the artist who once had to assimilate to succeed now stood proudly singing in Spanish about resisting colonization.
The song warns against Puerto Rico becoming like Hawaii—a colonized territory where indigenous populations have been displaced by gentrification and tourism. What made the moment more impactful was the part of the song Ricky Martin sang: “Quieren quitarme el río y también la playa, el barrio mío y que abuelita se vaya. No, no, no suelten la bandera ni olviden el lelolai que no quiero que hagan contigo lo que le pasó a Hawaii.” It means: they want to take the rivers and the beaches, they want my neighbourhood and push grandma away. No, no, no, hold on to the flag because I don’t want them to do with you what happened to Hawaii.
The song speaks directly about the ongoing gentrification happening in Puerto Rico.
Resistance Through Joy
The transition to “El Apagón” (The Blackout) was strategic. The song addresses Puerto Rico’s devastating power crisis following Hurricane Maria in 2017, when the island experienced widespread blackouts—some areas remained without electricity for nearly a year. The U.S. government’s inadequate response left Puerto Ricans to literally climb electrical poles (recreated in the halftime show) to restore power themselves. The song also critiques the ongoing privatization of Puerto Rico’s power grid under LUMA Energy, which has led to continued outages and displacement of residents who can no longer afford rising costs.
He didn’t only appear with the flag—he had the flag with light blue from before the U.S. took over. Bad Bunny, in “El Apagón,” also talks about how he loves his country and his culture. No matter what they do to try to push the people out of the country, he has no intention of ever leaving.
It’s also not a coincidence that he then goes to “Café y Ron.” The song lyrics are “in the mornings coffee and in the afternoons rum.” The message behind it, and the way he finishes the show is: it doesn’t matter what they do, how much they do, or what happens—we can still experience joy. We will resist. We are a revolution.
Revolution here doesn’t mean violence—it means showing up authentically, speaking our language unapologetically, and refusing to shrink ourselves to make others comfortable. It’s the quiet revolution of a grocery store worker becoming a global superstar without changing who he is. It’s the revolution of our grandparents who survived, our parents who sacrificed, and us who are learning to thrive without abandoning our roots.
Hence the message in the ball: “seguimos aquí”—we are still here. We then see all the flags with his message “God bless America” and he lists all the countries of the continent with a message behind it: the only thing more powerful than hate is love. What he wants is love and unity. He throws the ball and says “seguimos aquí”—we are still here, and then says “ahora sí”—now yes, and the song “DtMF” starts with everyone jumping, dancing, smiling… showing we are still here, we are resistance, revolution. You can’t take us down.
The Backlash
The performance sparked significant political backlash. President Trump called it “absolutely terrible” and “disgusting.” Conservative group Turning Point USA created a competing “All-American Halftime Show” featuring Kid Rock, which peaked at 5 million viewers—compared to Bad Bunny’s 128 million. Critics attacked the performance for being in Spanish, for featuring perreo (a Caribbean dance style often criticized as hypersexual), and for Bad Bunny’s outspoken opposition to the Trump administration’s immigration policies.
The political backlash against the performance—criticism of the Spanish language, of perreo, of Bad Bunny’s opposition to harmful policies—mirrors what many of my clients face daily. The expectation that we should minimize ourselves, speak English, perform gratitude for being “allowed” here. This cognitive dissonance—being told you belong while being treated like you don’t—is a significant source of anxiety and burnout in second-gen communities.
Why This Performance Was Historical
Let’s be clear: his performance was historical. Instead of making it about himself, his success, his winnings (considering that the performance happened just a week after winning the Grammy for Best Album of the Year, which is again a historic moment because the album is entirely in Spanish), he used his time to remind us of our strengths, of the beauty of our culture, of the richness behind it, and he asked us twice to never stop believing in ourselves.
We have been seeing families being separated. What’s happening in Venezuela is triggering because we see history (that harmed our parents) repeat itself. We have seen and heard political elects insult our culture. Ana Navarro spoke about micro joy as a coping strategy for navigating difficult times. In therapy, we call these moments of joy “emotional sustenance”—small but vital experiences that help us maintain resilience when facing systemic challenges like family separation, discrimination, and the retraumatization of seeing our communities targeted. These aren’t distractions from pain; they’re necessary nourishment for our mental health. I think this is the kind of moment that needs to be juiced to its last drop because we need it.
More Than a Celebrity
It’s also important to note that Bad Bunny is not just a big celebrity. His work is valuable. He always thanks the Latin community because he recognises he grew due to us. But mostly, he stands on our shoulders because he speaks up for us.
Bad Bunny’s relationship with his community sets him apart from many celebrities. He consistently credits the Latin community for his success, recognising that his platform exists because of collective support. Unlike artists who achieve mainstream success and distance themselves from their roots, Bad Bunny has doubled down on his identity—recording entirely in Spanish even as he became one of the world’s most-streamed artists, using his music videos to document Puerto Rico’s social struggles, and refusing to conform to industry pressures to “cross over” in the traditional sense.
If you watch his music videos, he captures the ongoing struggles of Puerto Rico. “El Apagón” discusses not only the blackout but the impact of gentrification. So does the video for the song “Turista”—it’s a love song about a woman who only passed in his life as a tourist, but the meaning behind it is the tourists in Puerto Rico who come and go, but don’t see the wounds and struggles of the country.
In his latest album, “DtMF,” Benito worked with local artists and brought back cultural music such as plena and salsa. Reminding us of the roots of music we have, so that we don’t forget. Benito also supports social issues. “Andrea” from his album Un Verano Sin Ti is a song about a woman who went to the police because she feared for her life. They didn’t listen to her, and she was found murdered by her partner (intimate partner violence).
What We Can Do With This
So what do we do with this? How do we hold onto the joy of Bad Bunny’s performance while navigating a world that tells us we’re too much and not enough at the same time?
We start by recognising that cultural pride is not just celebration—it’s mental health protection. Research shows that strong cultural identity is protective against anxiety, depression, and the psychological impacts of discrimination.
Here are some ways to nurture this:
1. Find Your Community Seek out spaces where you don’t have to translate yourself. Where your accent is familiar, your references land, your experiences are understood.
2. Honour the Both/And You can be Canadian AND Latinx. You can love Tim Hortons AND piraguas. You don’t have to choose.
3. Process the Grief It’s okay to feel sad about what was lost in immigration—the family members you don’t know, the language that feels just out of reach, the homeland that’s more memory than reality.
4. Celebrate the Micro Joys Like Bad Bunny’s performance. Like your abuela’s recipe. Like the moment a song in Spanish plays and you feel seen. These aren’t frivolous—they’re survival.
5. Seek Support That Gets It Therapy with someone who understands bicultural identity can be transformative. You shouldn’t have to explain why seeing Bad Bunny on the Super Bowl stage mattered.
Your identity isn’t a problem to solve. It’s a gift to unwrap, to understand, to celebrate. Even when the world makes that hard.
Seguimos aquí. We are still here. Together.
If you want to keep fighting the fight and reclaim your culture and yourself, book your free consultation here. I can’t wait to meet you.
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