Bad Bunny’s Halftime Show: A Celebration of Belonging and Unity

Santa Clara, Calif. — From the instant the lights came up inside Levi’s Stadium on Sunday night, Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl LX halftime show declared its mission: make the world dance on Latin music’s terms. Opening with the reggaetón blast of Tití Me Preguntó, the Puerto Rican superstar skipped the customary English-language crossover segue and instead trusted the groove to do the translating. By the time Yo Perreo Sola dropped, the crowd had pivoted from spectators to full participants, hips swiveling in unison across every section.

The 12-minute set never rushed. Safaera and Party kept the promise Bad Bunny articulated last Thursday — “people only have to worry about dancing” — while BAILE INoLVIDABLE and NUEVAYoL arrived with breathing room, allowing each dembow pulse to settle into the stadium’s bones.

Lady Gaga, appearing in bright blue, supplied the first surprise, folding a salsa-kissed Die with a Smile into the medley. The duet, coming weeks after the pair’s Grammy Awards rapport, radiated mutual admiration rather than stunt-casting. Ricky Martin’s entrance alongside LO QUE LE PASÓ A HAWAii underscored continuity, reminding viewers that tonight’s headliner stands on the shoulders of prior Latin crossover moments.

Visually, the stage recreated La Casita, the vibrant house featured on Bad Bunny’s Grammy-winning album Debí Tirar Más Fotos. Around it: a bodega storefront, a wedding vignette, and — in a detail that quieted even the press-box chatter — a child asleep on a couch while adults danced nearby. For millions of viewers raised on family parties that never end before sunrise, the image landed as both memory and manifesto.

The closing sequence crystallized the show’s emotional arc. CAFé CON RON bled into DtMF as more than 100 international flags flooded the field; Haiti’s banner among them drew audible cheers from sections of the Bay Area’s Caribbean diaspora. A football emblazoned with “Together we are America” and a jumbotron reading “The only thing stronger than hate is love” punctuated the finale without slipping into sloganeering.

By refusing to dilute his Spanish-language catalog, Bad Bunny turned skepticism — widespread when the NFL announced him last September — into affirmation. The performance did not merely entertain; it recognized communities historically sidelined on this stage, offering pride in place of translation and unity in place of compromise.

Bad Bunny, fresh off becoming the first Spanish-language artist to win the Grammy for Album of the Year, exited the field to a global chorus already asking the only question that matters: when can we dance together again?