The only thing more powerful than hate is love

Lessons from Bad Bunny's historic Super Bowl halftime show

I studied Spanish during a semester abroad years ago. And while I don’t remember much beyond the standard greetings (¡Hola! ¡Bienvenida!), I didn’t need to know Español to understand the message behind yesterday’s Super Bowl Halftime Show.

And I think that was the whole point.

There's so much to unpack about Bad Bunny's performance: the sugar cane fields nodding to the legacy of Puerto Rican agricultural workers, the sparking power poles from "El Apagón,” the street vendors and domino games. Every visual element was a love letter to Puerto Rican culture and resistance (Impact Media did an excellent cultural analysis if you’re interested.)

But what I really want to sit with is the deeper message behind it all. The one Bad Bunny keeps coming back to – in his Grammy speeches, and now, on the world's biggest stage:

The only thing more powerful than hate is love.

Here are three lessons his performance reminded me about choosing love over fear:

1. It’s okay to be misunderstood

The fear of being misunderstood has paralysed me for as long as I can remember. Tbh, I think it's universal: the fear of being fully seen and people still not “getting you.” Because of this, we tend to soften ourselves. Sand down the edges. Shrink ourselves to fit in. We make ourselves more palatable in the hope that we’ll be understood and accepted.

So when BB introduced himself in Spanish to a stadium of English-speaking Americans and performed his entire set without translation, it felt incredibly fucking brave.

He knew millions wouldn't understand him. He knew the criticism was coming (Trump was quick to rage-post about it). And yet, he didn't shrink. He didn't alter his music or code-switch to make white America comfortable. He took up space. He showed pride in his language, his culture, and his people. Instead of chasing the mainstream, he made the mainstream come to him.

As a white Australian with immense privilege, my fear of being misunderstood is still valid, but it's just not the same. For communities who live with that fear literally, who are made to feel like their language, their accent, their skin, and their very existence is unwelcome, this performance meant something I’ll never fully grasp. Especially at a time when Latino communities are facing ICE raids and escalating anti-immigrant rhetoric, watching someone show up this unapologetically felt like an act of defiance. Of hope.

It was such a powerful reminder: Be proud of who you are, even when people won't get it.

[Image: Mike Blake/Reuters]

2. Representation matters

It's easy for me to preach "just be proud!" as someone who has seen herself reflected in mainstream media since I first turned on a TV. Women who look and talk like me have always been on stage – winning Grammys and headlining shows.

But BB just won the first-ever Spanish-language Album of the Year at the Grammys. He is the first Latino artist to headline the Super Bowl solo. For millions who look and sound like him, this was a first.

A monumental, overdue moment.

There's a loud, global narrative right now demanding immigrants assimilate – learn English, dilute your culture, and become more like "us." Beyond the US, it’s also happening in Australia, the UK, and across Europe. The same rhetoric everywhere: Fit in or get out. But BB didn't assimilate to the Super Bowl. He brought Puerto Rico to it.

He didn't water down his culture for mass appeal. He centred it. Celebrated it. Claimed it. The entire performance was an act of radical pride – the props, the set, the language – all declarations that ordinary Latino lives deserve the world's biggest stage, too.

Inclusion doesn't mean assimilation. It means making space. When identity is centred unapologetically like this, it expands the room. It holds up the mirror for people to see themselves represented. To feel welcomed and accepted.

Visibility creates belonging. It signals: You belong here, too.

[Image: Reddit]

3. Love trumps fear (no pun intended)

The central theme of BB's performance couldn't have been more potent.

We're living in Trump-era politics where hate is loud and fear-driven narratives get the most clicks. For Latino communities especially, life in America right now carries a level of fear I couldn't even begin to comprehend. It would be so easy to fall into despair. To feel overwhelmed. To switch off and let hate win.

But that final moment on stage – with people dancing together, and flags from all 35 countries across the Americas flying behind the message “The only thing more powerful than hate is love,” was a reminder that hope is resistance.

Instead of leaning into fear, anger, and blame (justifiably so), BB chose something far more powerful: joy, pride, and love. He brought people together. He gave them something to feel proud of, to get excited about. A future worth hoping for.

At a time when the world tells people to hide and make themselves smaller, choosing to take up space with joy is an act of resistance. It’s activism.

And despite what we’re made to believe, hope doesn’t have to be soft or passive. Hope is powerful. It brings people together and sustains movements in a way hate never can. It gives people something to stand for, not just against.

We’re in a moment where it’s easy to feel hopeless. But moments like this remind us why we keep going. Why we must believe change is possible.

Love will always win over fear.

[Image: Reddit]