💚 When Bad Bunny proved there's room for all of us

What's happening: Bad Bunny's Super Bowl performance reminded me that we don't have to choose between our cultural identity and being American—we can be both, fully.

What you'll find here: Why his unapologetically Spanish performance was so powerful, and what it means for those of us learning to take up space.

The real talk: In a time when we're being told to be smaller, quieter, more palatable—showing up as our full selves is an act of resistance. And love is more powerful than hate.

I need to tell you about Sunday night.

I was sitting on my couch with my family and boyfriend, fighting sleep because the first half of the Superbowl was truthfully a drag. But, the time was approaching when we’d finally get to witness the highly anticipated Bad Bunny performance. And then he stepped up to that microphone, looked out at millions of people watching, and said his full name.

Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio.

I GOT CHILLS.

There was so much power in holding that microphone, amidst so much pushback, on an American stage, and proudly saying his name—his full name, in Spanish, without apology. 

The entire performance was an homage to Puerto Rico. Every detail celebrated the Latino experience. The diversity of his performers. The surprise appearances from Lady Gaga and Ricky Martin. And that ending—ay dios mío—when he named every single country that makes up America.

Shut the front door! Absolutely beautiful.

The pushback (and why it matters)

Here's what made Bad Bunny's performance even more powerful: the pushback. 

There was so much loud criticism before the show. People demanding he perform in English. People questioning why someone who "doesn't sing in English" should be on the Super Bowl stage. People making it clear that his music, his language, his culture was "too much" for this American moment. 

And you know what he did?

He didn't change a thing.

He performed entirely in Spanish. He centered Puerto Rico. He showed up as himself—fully, unapologetically, con orgullo. And in doing so, he reminded millions of people watching: we don't have to choose between our cultural identity and being American. We are American. Exactly as we are.

That performance was a declaration: there is room for all of us in this space.

The part I'm still learning

I've talked before about changing my name from Viry to Ana for years because it felt easier to blend in. About hiding the parts of myself that felt "too much"—the torta instead of the PBJ, the Spanish at home that I'd never let slip at school, the way I performed perfection to earn belonging.

And while I've been on this journey of reclaiming Viry, reclaiming my authenticity, reclaiming my voice—I'll be honest. It's still hard sometimes. 

Porque in a time when being a person of color, particularly Latina, comes with so much noise telling us to be smaller, quieter, more palatable—it takes real courage to take up space. To not apologize for who we are. To refuse to shrink.

But watching Bad Bunny on that stage, I was reminded of something critical: showing up fully isn't just about us. It's an act of resistance. And it's an act of love.

Choosing love over fear

For so long, I chose fear. Fear of judgment. Fear of rejection. Fear of being alone. And that fear made me hide—hide my name, my culture, my authentic self.

But I'm learning that choosing love for my roots, for my identity, for who I actually am—that's more powerful than any fear or judgment I might face.

And it's not just about loving myself (though that's part of it). It's about being open to others and their experiences. It's about recognizing that we don't all have to be alike to uplift one another. That our differences—our languages, our cultures, our stories—make us stronger, not weaker. 

La verdad es que when Bad Bunny performed entirely in Spanish on that Super Bowl stage, he wasn't just celebrating Puerto Rico. He was creating space. Space for every kid watching who speaks Spanish at home. Space for every person who's been told their culture is "too much." Space for all of us who've wondered if we have to choose between our roots and our future.

The answer is no. We don't.

What this means for us

I don't want to romanticize this or make it sound easier than it is. There are still moments where I catch myself code-switching, where I worry about being "too much," where I hesitate to take up space.

This is the messy middle, and I'm right in it with you.

But I'm practicing. I'm choosing authenticity more often than performance. I'm using Spanglish when it flows naturally. I'm owning my story instead of hiding it. I'm learning that showing up fully—with all my culture, all my identity, all my imperfect humanity—is not selfish or arrogant. 

It's resistance. And it's love.

Because when we show up as our full selves, we give other people permission to do the same. We create space for others to be unapologetically themselves too. We build community rooted in authenticity, not assimilation.

And maybe, just maybe, we start to believe what Bad Bunny proved on that stage: there is room for all of us. We are American. We belong. Exactly as we are.