Kendrick Lamar
I’ll admit — I was never really into Kendrick Lamar’s music. Hip-hop, in general, wasn’t my go-to genre, and while I respected the cultural impact of rap, I never felt compelled to dive into it. That changed after the release of Black Panther. When the soundtrack dropped, I forced myself to give it a serious listen, because of one name — Kendrick Lamar. And to my surprise, something clicked. Of course, having a son who is a die-hard Kendrick Lamar fan played a role in pushing me to pay closer attention to his work. And it didn’t take long for me to realize that Lamar is different. His music isn’t just music; it’s layered, intricate, and rich with meaning.
His poetry, his lyricism, his storytelling — none of it is surface-level. He is not like other hip-hop artists. He’s an auteur, a cultural historian, and a master of message-driven music.
After his Super Bowl LIX halftime show, I found myself going deeper. I spent time studying the songs he performed, analyzing his choices (visual and lyrical), and revisiting the performance over and over. I watched it three times before sitting down to write this piece, because every viewing revealed something new — a hidden symbol, a subtle nod, a deeper message woven into the spectacle. The more I watched, the more I understood: Kendrick Lamar wasn’t just putting on a show. He was telling a story, and it was one America needed to hear.
From Uncle Sam to Serena Williams, every detail was a statement — and nothing was accidental.
Super Bowl halftime shows are usually flashy, fun, and most of them are forgettable after a few days. Not this one. At least, I don’t think I will forget this one easily.
When Kendrick Lamar took the stage at the Caesars Superdome, he didn’t just perform — he made a statement. He turned the most-watched musical moment in America into a masterclass in storytelling, social commentary, and unapologetic Black expression. Every lyric, costume, and stage design was packed with symbolism, confronting America’s history, racial tensions, and cultural divides.
The result? A performance that still has people talking. With over 25 million views on YouTube post game (as I type this), and counting, Lamar’s halftime show was more than just entertainment. At the cost of being dramatic, I’d say that it was a cultural moment.
If you missed the deeper messages (like I did when I watched the first time), don’t worry. Let’s break down the six biggest hidden meanings from the show and how Lamar used music, visuals, and history to craft a performance that will be studied for years.
1. Uncle Sam Meets Uncle Tom: A Nation’s Dual Identity
Lamar’s performance opened with an unmistakable figure — Samuel L. Jackson, decked out in red, white, and blue, wearing a top hat and a smirk. It was a bold reimagining of Uncle Sam, America’s patriotic mascot. But this wasn’t the same Uncle Sam we’re used to seeing on posters. (Translation: Uncle Sam wasn’t white)
Within moments, Jackson’s character transformed, turning from a symbol of national pride into an “Uncle Tom” figure — one that criticizes Black artists for being “too reckless, too ghetto, too loud.” This moment hit hard. It echoed how Black culture has long been celebrated when convenient yet demonized when it challenges the status quo.
Jackson, known for his roles in films like Django Unchained, was the perfect casting choice. In Django, he played an enslaved man loyal to his white oppressors — a character often compared to the derogatory idea of an “Uncle Tom.” Here, in Lamar’s performance, he played both parts: the patriotic figurehead and the internal critic, embodying the contradictions of Black identity in America.
2. “The Revolution Will Be Televised”: A Direct Call to Action
One of Lamar’s most striking lines during the show was, “The revolution is about to be televised; you picked the right time but the wrong guy.”
It was an unmistakable reference to Gil Scott-Heron’s 1971 spoken-word piece The Revolution Will Not Be Televised. Scott-Heron’s original message warned that real change wouldn’t come through mainstream media but through grassroots movements. Lamar flipped the idea — arguing that, in today’s world, the revolution is televised, but not always by the people who should be leading it.
The stage itself reinforced this message. Designed with stark, geometric shapes — squares, triangles, and circles — the setup resembled a video game controller. This wasn’t just aesthetic. It symbolized the idea that younger generations are navigating America’s systems like a complex game, full of hidden obstacles and predetermined outcomes. Lamar was speaking directly to them, urging them to understand the rules so they could break them. And the wrong guy part also had another layer to it, given Trump was in attendance last night.
3. Mass Incarceration: The Prison Yard Imagery
If there was any doubt that Lamar was addressing America’s prison system, his stage design erased it.
Throughout the performance, Lamar and his dancers performed inside a space that looked eerily like a prison yard — chain-link fences, guard towers, and a cold, metallic atmosphere. This was a visual reference to mass incarceration, a crisis that disproportionately affects Black Americans. Lamar has often written about incarceration that systemically goes after Black Americans in his body of work.
Lamar’s outfit during this part of the performance was just as symbolic. He wore a blue varsity jacket with “Gloria” emblazoned across the back — a nod to his song of the same name, which deals with resilience and struggle. Around his neck, he sported a diamond-encrusted chain featuring the letter “A,” referencing his creative company, PGLang. It was a contrast: success and systemic oppression, coexisting in one image.
4. The American Flag: Built on the Backs of Black Labor
At one point, Lamar’s dancers arranged themselves into the shape of the American flag, their red, white, and blue outfits forming the stripes. But this wasn’t just a patriotic display. Moments later, they bent forward, lifting their backs in the air — an unmistakable reference to how America was built on the backs of enslaved Black people.
This was one of the most powerful moments of the night. It forced audiences to confront the uncomfortable truth: the American Dream, so often celebrated in Super Bowl ads and halftime spectacles, was not accessible to everyone.
The performance then took another turn. The dancers split into two groups, creating a striking visual representation of America’s deep political and racial divides. Lamar’s voice cut through the scene, delivering the line, “It’s a cultural divide.” It was clear — this wasn’t just about history. This was about right now.
5. “40 Acres and a Mule”: The Promise That Was Never Kept
Just before launching into Not Like Us, Lamar dropped a line that carried enormous historical weight:
“40 acres and a mule, this is bigger than the music.”
It was a direct reference to the unfulfilled promise made to Black Americans after the Civil War. On January 16, 1865, Union General William T. Sherman issued Special Field Order №15, which promised formerly enslaved families 40 acres of land. The promise was never honored, leaving generations of Black Americans without the economic foundation they were owed.
On stage, a large illuminated sign reading “40 Acres and a Mule” glowed in the background. It wasn’t just a prop — it was a challenge. Lamar was demanding that America remember its history and recognize its lingering effects.
6. Serena Williams and the Crip Walk: A Silent Statement
If anyone thought Serena Williams’ surprise appearance was just for fun, they weren’t paying attention.
Dressed in royal blue, Williams took the stage alongside Lamar’s dancers and performed the Crip Walk — a dance that originated from the Crips gang in Southern California. While some saw this as a playful nod to her Compton roots, others saw deeper layers.
Was this a subtle jab at Drake, her ex and Lamar’s rival in the Not Like Us diss track? Possibly. But it was also a callback to 2012, when Williams faced backlash for Crip Walking after winning Olympic gold. Critics accused her of glorifying gang culture, despite the dance’s cultural significance in Black communities. Here, on one of the biggest stages in the world, she reclaimed it on her own terms.
Perhaps the most entertaining moment of the night came during Not Like Us, Lamar’s now-iconic diss track aimed at Drake. In a display of sheer command over the crowd, Lamar turned the entire stadium into a choir, orchestrating a unified “A minor” as tens of thousands chanted along. It was a subtle but brilliant flex — beyond just calling out his rival, Lamar demonstrated that his music is more than just words; it’s a movement. But it also has another layer to it, given Trump’s own pedophilic history. He famously was on Epstein call logs multiple times and not to mention the other well-documented moments where one could see Trump showing his pedophilia.
The moment was electric, proving that even a diss track, in Kendrick Lamar’s hands, could become a collective cultural experience.
A Halftime Show That Will Be Remembered for Years
Most Super Bowl halftime shows fade into pop culture memory, and become yet another show, and their legacy reduced to flashy outfits and viral moments. There are only a very few that stand out. For example, Prince’s 2007 half time show always finds the top spot in most people’s all time favorite half time shows. But Kendrick Lamar’s performance last night wasn’t about trends — it was about truth. Ten years from now, I don’t know where it will feature on the list of Top 10 half time shows in history — but that does not matter at all.
From mass incarceration to racial divides, from broken promises to cultural pride, Lamar used every second of his time on stage to send a message. Supported by a cast of cultural icons — including Samuel L. Jackson, SZA, DJ Mustard, and Serena Williams — he transformed the Super Bowl into something rarely seen: a moment of real, raw, artistic resistance.
For those who dismissed the halftime show, it is clear they lacked the open mind to embrace a deeper understanding of Black history. Their prejudice blinded them to the profound message Kendrick Lamar was delivering.
To me, the halftime show transcended performance — it was a sort of reckoning. Long after the final whistle, Kendrick Lamar’s message resonated with me as it does with million others, reverberating through the stadium, the streets, and the culture itself. This was history in motion, a cultural lesson, and the world, I hope, is still listening.
