Why is Everyone so Salty? : Bad Bunny and the Super Bowl

Written by Mia Gonzalez

Bad Bunny, the Super Bowl, and the Salty Club: Why is Everyone so Salty?

In late September, the NFL made history. Puerto Rican superstar Bad Bunny was announced as the headliner for the 2026 Super Bowl halftime show, the first time a solo Spanish-language artist will command one of the most-watched stages on Earth. For millions, it felt like a long-overdue celebration. A moment of pride. A moment of joy.

But joy, it seems, is always met with resistance.

Within hours, conservative commentators began their familiar chorus. Some argued the Super Bowl should be reserved for English-speaking performers. Megyn Kelly called it a “slap in the face” to conservatives. MAGA-aligned voices labeled it “political” and “un-American”. President Donald Trump accused the NFL of surrendering to “woke culture.”

But this backlash? It says more about America’s discomfort with change than it does about Bad Bunny.

A Commercial That Says It All

Earlier this year, Bad Bunny appeared in a Ritz commercial with Aubrey Plaza and Michael Shannon. The ad opens in a sterile, joyless lounge — the “Salty Club” — where smiling is forbidden. Everyone stands stiff, gray, and grim. The air feels heavy, like a room where laughter was outlawed long ago.

Then Bad Bunny walks in. He’s radiant. He’s unapologetic. He’s holding a Ritz cracker and wearing a grin that cuts through the gloom like sunlight through storm clouds. The room shifts. The leaders panic. They don’t know what to do with someone who refuses to dim his light.

It was meant to be funny. But now? It feels prophetic.

The “Salty Club” is real. It’s the critics who clutch their pearls when joy doesn’t look like them. The crackers? They’re the bitterness. And Bad Bunny? He’s the flavor they can’t stand — the smile they can’t silence.

Why This Moment Matters

Latino communities know this story by heart. We’ve lived it in whispers and glances, in classrooms and workplaces. We’ve been told to tone it down, to blend in, to prove our worth before we’re allowed to celebrate it.

We’ve lowered our music so neighbors wouldn’t complain. We’ve translated our joy into English so it wouldn’t feel “too foreign.” We’ve made our food less spicy, our fashion less bold, our voices less loud — all to make others comfortable.

But here’s the truth: Latino culture doesn’t just adapt. It elevates. We remix dishes, dances, and traditions to create something new — something infused with soul, rhythm, and love.

We’re everywhere. We’re the hands behind the meals that warm your belly. We’re the teachers shaping the minds of tomorrow. We’re the drivers, the builders, the artists, the dreamers. We’re the heartbeat of cities and the pulse of pop culture.

According to the U.S. Census, Latinos make up nearly 20% of the population. Bad Bunny has been the most-streamed artist in the world for three years straight. This halftime show isn’t just a performance. It’s a mirror — reflecting a culture that’s been here all along.

The Double Standard

Every halftime show sparks debate. But the criticism toward Bad Bunny cuts deeper. It’s not just about music. It’s about identity.

If he sang in English, wore a tux, and kept quiet about injustice, the noise would fade. But Bad Bunny refuses to shrink. He sings in Spanish. He wears skirts and nail polish. He speaks truth to power. He dances with freedom.

And that boldness? It makes some people uncomfortable.

Instead of asking why joy threatens them, critics reach for the same tired labels: “political,” “divisive,” “un-American”. But this isn’t about a halftime show. It’s about who gets to define “American” — and who gets to shine.

Choosing Smiles Over Frowns

Here’s the irony: Latino communities are among the most welcoming in the world. We open our doors. We share our food. We celebrate others as if they were our own. We build bridges, not walls.

Yet when we claim space — when we say, “We belong here too” — the first reaction is resistance.

That’s why the Ritz commercial matters. It’s not just a joke. It’s a metaphor. The “Salty Club” wants silence, sameness, and control. But joy is rebellion. A smile is resistance. Flavor is power.

Bad Bunny doesn’t just bring music. He brings a movement. A language. A history. A people.

And when he steps onto that stage in 2026, millions will see more than a performer. They’ll

see a culture that refused to be erased. A community that chose joy over salt.

“They Want Us Salty, But Who Else Will Bring the Flavor?”

No backlash, no bitterness, no commercial can dim this moment. Bad Bunny’s halftime show is a milestone — a declaration that Latino culture is not on the sidelines.

It’s center stage. It’s smiling. It’s dancing. It’s here to stay.