Super Bowl Sunday is the biggest capitalist spectacle on television, masked as entertainment. It’s not just about football—it’s a cultural event that brings together millions of viewers for the game, the commercials, and most notably, the halftime show. Access to this "most culturally significant and viewed" program in the American calendar is locked behind paywalls, whether through cable, streaming services, or in-person attendance. Advertisements don’t just play during the game anymore—they run before, after, and across every platform that allows them.
But this year’s Super Bowl halftime performance was different. It wasn’t just entertainment; it was a statement.
Kendrick Lamar’s Halftime Performance: A Moment of Truth
Kendrick Lamar took the stage and delivered something rare—a performance with weight, meaning, and unapologetic Black expression. The Super Bowl is usually a platform for spectacle, corporate branding, and mass appeal. Lamar delivered more than just a performance—he brought meaning, depth, and an unfiltered message.
While the media focused on superficial details—his supposed beef with Drake, the clothes he wore—the real message of his performance ran deeper. His presence was an act of resistance, a refusal to dilute his art to fit neatly into the capitalist, sanitized version of Black culture that America finds acceptable.
The Political and Cultural Context
The performance didn’t exist in a vacuum. Days later, people noticed that Google’s online calendar had quietly removed default references to Pride Month, Black History Month, and other cultural observances. Erasure is a tool of control. The less people see, the less they remember. The less they remember, the easier it is to rewrite history.
“Some years ago, the Calendar team started manually adding a broader set of cultural moments in a wide number of countries around the world. We got feedback that some other events and countries were missing – and maintaining hundreds of moments manually and consistently globally wasn’t scalable or sustainable,” the statement said.
“So in mid-2024 we returned to showing only public holidays and national observances from timeanddate.com globally, while allowing users to manually add other important moments.”
At the same time, Trump is back in office, signing controversial bills, making inflammatory speeches, and sending out tweets that remind us just how much tension still lingers in the United States. The country has always thrived off diversity while simultaneously working to suppress the very people who built it.
This is why documentation—our own storytelling—is necessary. If institutions won’t recognize us, we have to recognize ourselves.
Drake vs. Kendrick: The Marketable Distraction
Much of the conversation around Kendrick Lamar right now has been dominated by his so-called rivalry with Drake. While the music itself is entertaining, the framing of their tension makes it clear: corporate America would rather focus on easily digestible conflict than Lamar’s message.
Drake, a Canadian artist who has lived in the American music market since 2009, is a pop rapper—his music is designed to be relatable on a surface level. Lamar, on the other hand, crafts narratives about what it means to be Black in America. He represents the millions who navigate a system that neglects them. His music doesn’t shy away from the truth—it forces people to look at it, whether they want to or not.
Adding to the spectacle, Timothée Chalamet—an acclaimed white American actor known for his love of rap—was strategically used to help market the event. Positioned as an "academic mind" with credibility in the arts and music, Chalamet's involvement helped bridge rap’s cultural significance to mainstream, white audiences in a way that felt palatable. His presence reinforced how easily corporate America co-opts Black culture through familiar, non-threatening figures, all while sidestepping the deeper conversations Lamar’s work demands.
If the feud between Kendrick and Drake makes more people listen to Lamar’s music, maybe some will start to hear the message. Even if they don’t fully understand it yet.
The Super Bowl Performance as a Commentary on America
Lamar’s performance was filled with symbolism, a direct critique of the American system:
Life as a Video Game: The performance opened with Samuel L. Jackson’s “Uncle Sam” character stating, “This is the great American game.” A nod to the literal football game being played, but also a reference to the broader “game” America plays—capitalism, politics, systemic oppression. The stage itself was shaped like PlayStation controller buttons, reinforcing the idea that life under these systems is rigged.
Uncle Sam and Black Expression: Samuel L. Jackson’s role as Uncle Sam wasn’t just about the character—his presence itself carried weight. Jackson is one of the most influential Black actors in Hollywood, a figure who has navigated the entertainment industry for decades while remaining vocal about race, politics, and Black identity. His casting as Uncle Sam—a character symbolizing the American system—was no accident. It positioned him as both the gatekeeper and enforcer of the status quo, the kind of performer who plays by the rules, contrasted against Lamar, who refuses to conform.
In the performance, Uncle Sam attempts to censor Lamar, calling his art “too ghetto.” This moment wasn’t just theatrical—it was a direct reflection of the real-life backlash that followed, with MAGA voices criticizing the show for being “too Black.” Trump himself left the performance early, a clear statement on how uncomfortable unapologetic Blackness makes certain people.
Jackson’s presence in this role adds another layer of meaning. As an actor, he has spent his career pushing boundaries, but he has also worked within Hollywood’s system—a system that historically limits how far Black artists can go before they are deemed "too much." By playing Uncle Sam, Jackson embodied the tension between success within the industry and the sacrifices Black artists often have to make to sustain that success.
Lamar, however, makes no such concessions. And that contrast was the point.
The American Flag Imagery: Lamar standing in the middle of the flag wasn’t about patriotism—it was about division. The United States remains fractured, caught in an ongoing cycle of racial and political tension.
"Warning Wrong Way": As Lamar performed in a prison yard, lights flashed the words "Warning Wrong Way."The meaning was twofold: a critique of the country’s direction, but also a warning to Black youth about the dangers of the prison-industrial complex.
Bringing the Hood With Him: Lamar didn’t just perform alone—he brought Turf Feinz, an Oakland-based dance group, highlighting the importance of community in his work. No matter how big the stage, he doesn’t leave his people behind.
"40 Acres and a Mule": Before performing Not Like Us, Lamar declared, “40 acres and a mule, this bigger than the music.” A reminder that Black Americans were promised reparations that never came, and that they shouldn’t settle for token gestures of progress. America wants Black people to be satisfied with what little they’re given—Lamar’s message was clear: don’t be.
Why Now? The Timing of It All
The NFL announced Lamar as the headliner in September. His response? "Rap music is still the most impactful genre to date. And I'll be there to remind the world why. They got the right one."
Meanwhile, Trump’s political timeline lines up eerily well:
November 2016: Trump is elected for the first time.
November 2022: He announces his candidacy for a second term.
November 2024: He wins the presidency again.
And now, in February 2025, Kendrick Lamar—one of the most politically outspoken Black artists of our time—takes center stage at the most-watched event in America. Coincidence? Maybe. But when you look at history, patterns emerge.
It’s worth noting that no sitting U.S. president has ever publicly attended a Super Bowl. Why? Because everything about this event, from the game to the halftime show, is a carefully controlled display of American identity. And right now, that identity is under scrutiny.
The Country Is Ours
Lamar’s performance was more than a halftime show. It was a reminder that Black history, culture, and struggle cannot be erased—no matter how much institutions try to rewrite or ignore it. The system wants us to take what we’re given and be content.
But as Lamar showed us: this country isn’t just what the system gives. It’s what we create. It’s what we document. It’s what we refuse to let be erased.
The game is rigged. But that doesn’t mean we stop playing.
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