The Super Bowl LXI Halftime Show is set, and Bad Bunny will be taking the stage on . While the announcement has sparked the usual mix of excitement and debate, a deeper look reveals a complex conversation about cultural appropriation, the evolution of reggaeton, and who truly benefits from its global success. The reaction, as noted in recent coverage, is predictably polarized, with some celebrating a major moment for Latin music and others questioning the narrative surrounding his rise.
Bad Bunny’s ascent is undeniable. He’s a streaming giant, a Grammy winner, and now, a Super Bowl performer. But as The Root points out, his success isn’t happening in a vacuum. It’s occurring within a genre – reggaeton – with a deeply rooted history often overlooked in mainstream celebrations of its current stars. Originally known as “Reggae en Español,” the genre’s origins lie with Black West Indians in Panama, artists like Edgardo Franco, known as El General, and Fernando Mosley, or Nando Boom, who blended Jamaican dancehall with Spanish lyrics.
This foundation then traveled to Puerto Rico in the 1990s, where it was further developed by artists who infused it with hip-hop and Afro-Puerto Rican influences. Pioneers like Tego Calderón and Ivy Queen are rightfully considered legends, shaping the sound that would eventually conquer the world. However, as reggaeton exploded in popularity, a troubling pattern emerged: the Black artists who built the genre were increasingly marginalized. The industry began to favor and promote artists who presented a different aesthetic, one that, as several sources suggest, leaned towards whiteness.
The nuances of racial identity within Latin America are, of course, complex. But the trend was clear. The architects of reggaeton were sidelined while the industry chased a more palatable image for a global audience. This is the core of the argument being made by critics of Bad Bunny’s success – that he represents a “gentrification” of the genre, a sonic polishing of its raw, Afro-diasporic sound to make it more accessible to a non-Black audience. This isn’t simply about who moves in, to borrow the language of urban gentrification, but about sanitizing a space, stripping it of its original character to make it more welcoming to a different demographic.
Bad Bunny’s success, isn’t just a story of talent and hard work. It’s a story of industry dynamics, racial biases, and the often-unequal distribution of cultural capital. He has taken a Black musical sound, refined it, and repackaged it for mass consumption, achieving unprecedented levels of streaming numbers and accolades. As highlighted by Rolling Stone, his Grammy win has further boosted his streaming figures, solidifying his position as a global superstar.
The question then becomes: what does this mean for Black artists within the reggaeton space? Will they receive the recognition and opportunities they deserve? Or will they continue to be relegated to the margins, their contributions minimized or erased? The conversation isn’t about diminishing Bad Bunny’s accomplishments, but about acknowledging the historical context and challenging the systems that perpetuate inequality.
The reaction to his Super Bowl performance will undoubtedly be intense. Some will celebrate it as a victory for Latin representation, a moment of pride for the culture. Others will see it as a symbol of appropriation, a reminder of the ongoing struggle for recognition and equity. As one observer might say, it’s perfectly acceptable to enjoy the show while simultaneously acknowledging the complex history behind it. To “clap, tweet, and argue online” is a valid response, but it shouldn’t come at the expense of recognizing the origins of the music and the artists who paved the way.
the Super Bowl Halftime Show is a spectacle, a moment of mass entertainment. But it’s also a platform, a space where cultural narratives are reinforced and contested. Bad Bunny’s performance will be watched by millions around the world, and it’s an opportunity to spark a conversation about the importance of cultural preservation, the need for equitable representation, and the enduring legacy of the Black artists who laid the foundation for reggaeton’s global success. The ancestors, as the saying goes, don’t get royalties, and the pioneers won’t be taking the stage. But perhaps, through critical engagement and honest dialogue, One can begin to address the imbalances that have long plagued the music industry.
