The Super Bowl, Bad Bunny, and Reclaiming My Identity

The Bad Bunny Super Bowl halftime show hit me like a truck. It made me cry, laugh, dance, remember, and feel everything at once. I didn’t expect it. I didn’t know it would shake something loose in me that has been quiet for decades.

For much of my life, I have tried to hide my culture, my history, my background. I grew up speaking both English and Spanish, but from a young age, I was pushed to focus on English, to speak it perfectly, sin acento. My parents knew the world would judge me—by my skin, by my name, by my look. They knew that the safest way to survive in this country was to adopt white culture, to blend in, to minimize any difference that might make me a target.

And they were right. I’ve felt the sting of racism since I was a child. People assumed I was stupid. They assumed I couldn’t speak English. And when they heard me speak clearly, perfectly, their surprise was almost as hurtful as the assumption itself. Even “friends” found it easy to poke fun at Mexicans, sometimes casually, sometimes without even realizing it. From jokes about sombreros to dressing up like mariachis for Halloween, each one made me shrink a little inside, even as I laughed along.

Mexican heritage is only half my story. My mother, who raised me, is Puerto Rican. Two distinct, vibrant cultures. Two legacies I felt I had to hide to survive, to fit in, to build a life here. I was born in New Jersey, my mother in New York, her father a veteran of WWII and Korea. And yet, despite all that, I didn’t feel fully American. I’ve been living with this tension, this sense of disconnection from my family’s identity, for 44 years—moving further and further away from the roots that shaped me.

Then came the halftime show. Bad Bunny. And in an instant, something inside me shifted. Memories of family, of love, of my past—all of it—flooded back. The music was a celebration of me. Of us. It filled me up and broke my heart at the same time. Benito made me feel proud of being Latino.

This feeling is even more intense now, in the shadow of fear I live with every day. The fear of unmarked cars, of deportation, of what could happen to my children if I were to be pulled over while driving them to school, if something went wrong. That fear is real, and it has lived in my head, my heart, in my stomach over this last year. But seeing Bad Bunny, seeing pride, love, and hope on that stage, reminded me that my heritage is not something to hide—it’s something to embrace, celebrate, and pass on.

I didn’t know much about Bad Bunny before the Super Bowl. I couldn’t have picked out a song from his discography. But now, I've listen to Bad Bunny Radio every day since. I am a fan. And more importantly, I am inspired. Inspired to share my history with my children, to teach them Spanish, to teach them about the indigenous cultures of Mexico, the rich traditions of Puerto Rico, and the resilience of our people.

Bad Bunny reminded me of something I had forgotten: that our stories, our history matter. That our culture is beautiful, powerful, and worthy of celebration. That pride is not just a feeling—it is a responsibility, a gift we pass on to the next generation.

Thank you, Benito, for showing me—and the world—that being Latino is something to be proud of.

-Julio Luis Zárate Rivera