NFL - Super Bowl LIX - Half-Time Show
Credit: Reuters File Photo
By William E. Ketchum III
Before Kendrick Lamar’s Super Bowl halftime show, there were questions about whether he would use the opportunity to take yet another dig at fellow rapper Drake. Anticipation grew as the big day approached, particularly with the latest developments in their feud.
In mid-January, Drake filed a lawsuit against their mutual record label, Universal Music Group. He called Not Like Us, Kendrick's record-breaking diss track about the Canadian rapper, defamatory. Less than a month later, the song won five Grammys. So, fans of both artists wanted to know how or if the feud would make its way to the Super Bowl.
We got our answer on Sunday. In front of a record 133.5 million halftime show viewers, Kendrick did indeed rub salt in Drake’s wounds. It was spectacular — at one point the whole crowd could be heard singing some of the lyrics to Not Like Us. The Drake references have since dominated news coverage and social media discourse; even United Airlines jumped in on the fun. But while the ridicule of Drake certainly deserves to be spotlighted, it was just a small piece of a 13-minute presentation.
Limiting Kendrick’s performance to a hip-hop beef does a disservice to its larger message. More than anything, it was a political statement. Kendrick used the biggest, most American stage possible — feet away from the US president, at that — to illustrate how Black people have been oppressed in this country and to showcase hip-hop’s power as a tool to fight back.
Every creative choice the Pulitzer Prize-winning lyricist made held a mirror up to America.
Legendary actor Samuel L. Jackson portraying Uncle Sam set the tone. The character personifies America’s rigid expectations of how Black people must conduct themselves to gain acceptance and avoid punishment. At one point, Jackson chastises Kendrick. “No, no, no, no, no!” he scolds. “Too loud, too reckless, too ghetto.”
Many Black people heard those words on Sunday and immediately could pinpoint moments they were told something similar. This country was literally built on the backs of Black labor and continues to be fueled by Black creativity, but we’re subjected to a rulebook that’s designed to keep us down – and out – unless we fall in line.
And when we push back against those rules, our patriotism to America often comes into question. Consider the arguments you’ve heard against teaching about slavery in schools (it will teach kids to hate America) or prioritizing diversity, equity and inclusion (it’s “fundamentally anti-American”).
There’s a reason why Jackson’s Uncle Sam criticized Kendrick’s more boisterous songs like “Squabble Up” while praising the more subdued SZA-assisted “All The Stars” and “Luther.” Just when it seemed like Kendrick was going to play by the rules and be less "ghetto" and less "reckless," he shifted to the diss anthem "Not Like Us," much to the displeasure of Uncle Sam.
Even the inclusion of tennis great Serena Williams among the “Not Like Us” dancers was a message in how Black Americans are routinely told to stay in line. Kendrick had already name-dropped Williams in the song’s lyrics in defense of the fellow Compton native after Drake (a rumored ex) made disparaging remarks about Williams and her husband.
However, her inclusion at the Super Bowl took on a more significant meaning. Williams is widely considered to be one of the greatest female tennis players of all time, yet she endured racist and sexist attacks throughout her career. When she was passionate in the heat of competition, she was labeled as “aggressive.” If she wore her hair in “Black” styles or dressed in a way that didn’t align with what the mostly-White sport thought appropriate, she was mocked. When she crip-walked at the 2012 Olympics after winning gold, she was also criticized. She did it again at the Super Bowl to prove a point. (The dance has been controversial because of its origins in gang culture, but it has since evolved into a celebration of West Coast culture as a whole.)
And all over the New Orleans field were the other stars of the show: a team of what appeared to be all Black dancers wearing red, white, and blue. This was a multilayered reference: likely a call for the unification of Blood and Crip gangs in Los Angeles, a longstanding theme of Kendrick’s career. But it also emphasized that Black people are just as much a part of the fabric of America as anyone else. In one striking scene, the dancers lined up to emulate the American flag. A notable space separated the flag into halves, conveying the country’s sociopolitical division.
But for all the Easter eggs woven into Kendrick’s performance, it was just as notable for what it didn’t have: many of the fan favorites from earlier in his career.
Aside from a few exceptions, Kendrick’s set list was largely songs he had released within the past 12 months. It left some viewers unsatisfied and lamenting that the Super Bowl isn’t the place to convey political or social messages; it’s a time to dance and have fun.
To them, I say listen to Kendrick’s pre-show interview with Apple Music. In it he reflects on being the first solo hip-hop artist to headline the halftime performance: “It reminds me of the essence and core response of rap and hip-hop and how far it can go,” he said. “It puts the culture on the forefront where it needs to be, and not minimized to just a catchy song or verse. This is a true art form.”