Kendrick Lamar’s Super Bowl Halftime Show Held Up A Mirror To America

Last September, the NFL announced one of the most awarded rappers in GRAMMY history, Kendrick Lamar, as 2025's Super Bowl halftime show headliner and scores of Black Americans marked their calendars for the big game. And after last night’s performance—13 minutes of fearless storytelling, unfiltered Black pride, and cutting political critique—we all know why. From good ol' Uncle Sam(uel L. Jackson) to red, white, and blue backup dancers, the Pulitzer Prize winner fortified his G.O.A.T. status with bold Americana criticism (in front of President Trump, no less). But, Black performers have always made the football field— 100 yards of surveilled spotlight backed by Black talent— their political main stage. 

We open Lamar's performance with an aerial shot of the field showcasing four stages in the shape of a square, triangle, x, and circle. These iconic Playstation controller buttons, the 8-bit sound effects, and the scoreboard counting up to 100 all coincide with Uncle Sam's introduction of this "great American game." Quite the double entendre, it alludes to the literal Super Bowl and the tiring sport that is surviving the Black American experience (often riddled with strict supervision and unfair rules). One could argue that it is also a callback to Lamar's "Euphoria" lyric aimed at Canadian rapper Drake: "Have you ever played, have you ever? Ok, n****. Let's play."

And actor Samuel L. Jackson as Uncle Sam? A genius stroke (and a nod to the actor's role in Spike Lee's Chi-Raq). The historically white symbol of America, now played by one of the most unapologetic Black actors alive, was well -played and a brilliant inversion of power. The wordplay is immaculate, but it is up for debate whether Jackson is, in fact, portraying a game referee Uncle Tom: a colloquial slur used to insult Black men seemingly subservient to white society. Throughout the performance, Jackson criticizes and snitches on Lamar with a jovial, Black minstrel show-like demeanor for being "too loud, too reckless, too ghetto." Lamar and his "homeboys" are, in fact, so disruptive in Uncle Sam's eyes that Lamar loses a life mid-performance. In this game, Lamar receives a second chance, a luxury rarely afforded to Black Americans in real life.

Cut to Lamar perched on the hood of a Buick GNX, rapping the second verse to Bodies*(GNX Teaser). Hard-hitting lines like "everybody must be judged" and "that pen dedicated to cold hard truth" set the tone for the performance. From rival artists like Drake to entrenched power systems like the American government receive a reality check. The beat drops, Lamar spits, "We go body for body," and a collective of backup dancers clad in monochromatic red, white, or blue tracksuits burst out of the Buick, clown-car style. We soon watch them make a seamless American flag formation that Lamar cuts through the middle to perform Humble. And there you have it. Let the game begin. 

The following nine minutes are chock full of reverence for the richness of Los Angeles Black culture, specifically Lamar's hometown Compton. The stages, resembling cracked concrete roads, featured several men resting atop street lamps, visually representing the West Coast urban aesthetic. Other dancers sported simple ensembles of baggy light-wash denim, white tees, and baseball caps—signature East L.A. style. One of the best displays of L.A. pride was Compton's born-and-raised Serena Williams' cameo. The tennis champion's televised Crip walking mid "Not Like Us" reminds us of the harsh criticism she received for doing, not exactly (according to a recent X post), but similar moves at the London tennis tournament Wimbledon. It's also worth noting that Williams allegedly had a fling with Drake that he apparently felt did not end on great terms — so much that Drake dissed Williams' husband, Reddit co-founder Alexis Ohanian, in a song off his album Her Loss.

At the 10-minute mark after SZA's dreamy, melodic special-guest performance, Lamar unleashes "Not Like Us," his most prominent diss track throughout his duel with Canadian-rapper Drake that dominated headlines and disrupted all of our sleep schedules last spring. Although not the finale, "Not Like Us" is undoubtedly the climax of the show. We see Uncle Sam either give up on or wake up from his vigilant referee role as he says, "Don't mess this…" before abruptly turning away in disbelief and exiting the stage. The women backup dancers dressed in all white lip sync, "You really gonna do it?" to which Kendrick boldly references America's failed promise to enslaved African Americans during the Civil War. He raps, "40 acres and a mule, this is bigger than the music." 

The performance reaches a crescendo of vibrant energy and movement. The red, white, and blue backup dancers scatter, but we get an aerial shot of them executing intentional, swift dance moves in unison. In a display of unity, the dancers form an orderly circle around Lamar while giving each other high fives, signaling a powerful sense of collective strength and community. 

Something unplanned did take place toward the end of the show. Per AP News, one of Lamar's performers unraveled a "combination Sudanese-Palestinian flag with 'Sudan' and Gaza' written on it." Although this protest was not officially affiliated with the performance, such an act of rebellion and representation for the stifled voices of Palestinian and Sudanese people was a fitting addition to Lamar's message. Then boom: "Not Like Us" transitions seamlessly into "TV Off" for the grand finale featuring DJ Mustard. 

This is not Lamar's first Super Bowl halftime show performance, but it embossed a heavier imprint on America after an election year. 2024 featured a particularly tense election, in which the Democratic party's first-ever woman of color nominee, former Vice President Kamala Harris, lost in a tight race to the country's first-ever convicted felon, President Donald Trump. Trump frequently threatens marginalized communities and, since winning the presidency, has left many of us members of disenfranchised societies shrouded in fear for the future of America. With Trump attending this year's Super Bowl, Lamar's performance was an act of brave defiance.

Last Christmas, Grammy AOTY-winner Beyoncé Knowles-Carter made a similarly bold political statement on the field with a halftime performance featuring songs from Cowboy Carter. Much like Lamar, she and her backup dancers performed in pure Americana fashion—all-white cowboy attire—and used American iconography to reclaim Black history. Beyoncé is no stranger to making statements on the field. As we remember, her unexpected guest performance during the 2016 Super Bowl halftime show remains a standout moment in music history. As if her Formation music video referencing America's neglect and abandonment of Black folks during Hurricane Katrina wasn't daring enough, she and her dancers took center stage at the great American game in Black Panther-inspired attire. 

If there was ever a place to boost a political statement criticizing America's violent beginnings and uncertain future in the hands of President Trump, it's the modern American football field. Millions of eyes, both ignorant and informed, are drawn to the glory of the game—no matter how unethical, racist, or unfair it may be. Lamar's transparent use of red, white, and blue outfits, frank lyrics demanding change, and inclusion of Uncle Sam in his narrative performance resonated deeply with me as a Black woman in fear of my voice being censored by America's future. 

In the hours and the days following, Kendrick Lamar's Super Bowl 59 halftime performance was more than just entertainment. It was a cultural statement, a masterclass in using a global stage such as this to challenge societal norms and ignite critical thinking. However, this isn't anything new for Black artists, who have long used the Super Bowl stage to challenge, reclaim, and redefine the narrative of American identity. In a country where history is often rewritten to silence socially inconvenient truths, Lamar stood firm in his messaging without compromising his artistry. Lamar didn’t just perform, or only celebrate his Compton roots. He educated, provoked, and forced America to look itself in the mirror. And in the end, that’s what the greatest halftime shows do: they make history.