Transcription
This year's Super Bowl halftime show wasn't just a performance; it was a statement, a cultural moment, and for some, a direct challenge. In an era where Black artistry and activism are constantly scrutinized, Kendrick Lamar took the biggest stage in American sports and used it to deliver one of the most politically charged and unapologetically Black halftime shows ever seen. For many, that was the problem.
As expected, controversy followed. The performance was met with intense criticism, with some calling it the worst halftime show in history. But was that really because of the music, or was it because Kendrick chose not to play by the industry's unwritten rules? He didn't just run through the hits to entertain a mainstream audience; he made a statement full of layered symbolism that many missed. This was more than a rap show; it was a deconstruction of race, power, and control in America.
Kendrick's journey to this moment wasn't without obstacles, from ongoing drama with Lil Wayne to his infamous feud with Drake, and even looming legal threats surrounding his performance of "Not Like Us." The stakes couldn't have been higher. And as if all of that weren't enough, he was performing in front of none other than President Donald Trump, further deepening the weight of his message.
Donald Trump has had a complicated relationship with Black celebrity endorsements, attracting sporadic support while facing widespread criticism. Before entering politics, he was frequently referenced in hip-hop culture as a symbol of wealth and success, with rappers name-dropping him in their lyrics throughout the 1980s and 1990s. However, once he launched his political career, his support within the Black community became far more divisive. During his 2016 presidential campaign and throughout his time in office, Trump secured endorsements from a handful of high-profile Black celebrities. Kanye West became one of his most vocal supporters, famously visiting the White House in 2018 while wearing a MAGA hat and praising Trump's leadership. Other notable endorsements came from Lil Wayne, who backed Trump's criminal justice reform efforts, and former NFL player Hershel Walker, a longtime friend. Ice Cube also engaged with Trump's team on his contract with Black America policy proposal, though he maintained that he wasn't endorsing Trump personally. Despite these endorsements, Trump's overall support among Black voters remained low, as many viewed his rhetoric and policies as harmful to their communities. His comments on race, handling of social justice movements, and responses to police brutality led many Black public figures to denounce him.
Even before the show began, Kendrick set the tone with one powerful visual: the entire SoFi Stadium glowing red, resembling a massive button. This wasn't random. In his long-standing beef with Drake, the Canadian rapper once referenced a big red button, implying that he had something devastating ready to drop. But Kendrick flipped the narrative, bathing the entire stadium in red light as if to say, "I am the button. I am in control. I dictate this narrative, not you." From the very start, Kendrick positioned himself as the master of his own story, seizing power in a way that few artists ever do on a stage this massive.
Then came the symbols. As the stage lit up, four shapes appeared: square, triangle, cross, and circle—identical to PlayStation controller buttons. On the surface, it seemed like a sleek, modern aesthetic choice, but in reality, it carried a much deeper meaning. There are a few interpretations here, and all of them make sense. Some believe it was another jab at Drake, who, in the song "First Person Shooter," bragged, "I'm as big as the Super Bowl." By performing on this exact stage, Kendrick effectively invalidated that claim. Others see it as a broader metaphor for the rigged nature of the American dream. According to the halftime show's art director, these symbols were Kendrick's idea, representing the challenges of navigating America as a Black man. The deeper meaning here is undeniable. In a video game, the person holding the controller decides the rules, sets the objectives, and determines who wins or loses. This mirrors the reality that while Black artists create culture, they rarely own the game. The entertainment industry has long profited off Black talent while limiting its control, and Kendrick's use of PlayStation imagery was a subtle but powerful critique of that system.
The symbolism only intensified with the introduction of Black Uncle Sam, played by the legendary Samuel L. Jackson. This was one of the most powerful moments of the performance, as Kendrick flipped one of America's most recognizable symbols into a sinister caricature. Traditionally, Uncle Sam represents national pride, but in this context, he became a minstrel, embodying the entertainment industry's long history of policing Black expression. For centuries, America has demanded everything from Black people—our labor, culture, talent, and even our political engagement—while offering little in return. Kendrick turned this dynamic on its head, using Jackson's character to represent an establishment that profits from Black artists while simultaneously dictating the limits of their expression. This role wasn't chosen at random. Samuel L. Jackson has played several minstrel-like characters in Hollywood, including Stephen in *Django Unchained*, a role that eerily mirrored the subservient, self-hating archetype often projected onto Black entertainers. By placing Jackson in this role, Kendrick drove home the idea that the entertainment industry rewards Black performers who conform but punishes those who challenge the system.
Then, in a move that was as deeply personal as it was symbolic, Kendrick pulled up to the stage in a 1987 Buick GNX. Most Super Bowl performers make grand entrances—from the rafters or emerging from elaborate platforms. Kendrick, however, chose to arrive in a car that holds deep cultural and personal significance. The Buick GNX is an icon in Black car culture, representing the aesthetic and spirit of 80s and 90s hip-hop. But for Kendrick, it was even more meaningful. In a 2012 interview, he revealed that his father drove him home from the hospital in the parent model of the GNX, a Buick Regal. This car wasn't just a prop; it was a symbol of authenticity, a reminder of where he comes from and the culture that shaped him.
Midway through the performance, Kendrick flipped another cultural reference, declaring, "The revolution will be televised. You got the right time, but the wrong guy." This was a direct challenge, not just to his critics but to the establishment itself. He knew people questioned why he was chosen to perform; he wasn't the typical pop-friendly Super Bowl act. But at a time when America feels more divided than ever, he was exactly who needed to be on that stage.
Then came "Squabble Up." Kendrick's dancers, dressed in red, white, and blue, scattered across the stage. It was a direct representation of America's racial and political divide, showing how the country has never truly been as united as it claims to be. But even as the dancers moved in chaos, their movements hinted at a deeper message: perhaps even in division, there is still a path to connection.
As expected, Black Uncle Sam returned, voicing the criticisms that always follow outspoken Black artists. "This is too loud, too reckless, too ghetto," he said. This wasn't just a line; it was an echo of the backlash Black entertainers have faced for decades. The industry loves Black culture, but only when it's packaged neatly for mainstream consumption. Anything too raw, too honest, too defiant—that's where the pushback begins.
And then, finally, "Not Like Us," the moment everyone had been waiting for. Kendrick teased it multiple times throughout the performance, knowing the weight it carried. He even smirked as he referenced the legal threats against him, saying, "You know people like to sue." As the beat dropped, something incredible happened: Serena Williams, one of the greatest athletes of all time, stepped onto the stage and hit a walk-off at the Super Bowl. This was an extraordinary moment. Serena has long been a target of racist and sexist attacks, often criticized for being too aggressive or too Black for mainstream tenets. Yet here she was, proudly embracing her culture on the biggest stage in American sports. Drake once dissed Serena's husband, calling him a "groupie," but in this moment, Kendrick turned the tables. He wasn't just taking shots at Drake; he was celebrating Serena as a symbol of Black excellence and resilience.
As the performance came to a close, Kendrick repeated one final phrase: "Turn this TV off." Maybe it was directed at Drake, signaling the official end of their feud. But on a deeper level, it was a message to America itself: stop watching, start acting; wake up. Because at the end of the day, Kendrick's performance wasn't just about music; it was about power, race, division, and the undeniable truth that in this rigged game of life, Black people have always had to fight just to play. And that's why this Super Bowl halftime show will go down as one of the most legendary performances of all time. Let us know what you think in the comments.