A Moment I'll Never Forget

Last night wasn’t just the Super Bowl - it was The Benito Bowl. But this post isn’t another recap of the halftime performance. You’ve already seen those.

This is about me.

I’ve never claimed to be a die-hard Bad Bunny fan. I’ve always been honest about that. But last night, as my people flooded the stage, I felt so deeply, overwhelmingly proud of my culture. I am proud of Bad Bunny. I have so much love, respect, and admiration for him. ¡Felicidades Conejo! Gracias por sacar a Puerto Rico pa’ lante.

You see… that pride wasn’t just a warm feeling - I literally felt it in my bones. My eyes welled up more than once as I noticed all the details that were put into the set. Then, I looked around the room and saw something even more beautiful: my husband, who is Cape Verdean, leaning in to hug and kiss our daughters as he sang along too. My girls, our beautiful, mixed-race babies, were soaking in this moment. We were at our neighbor’s house, she’s Peruvian, he’s Puerto Rican. Our other Puerto Rican neighbors were there too. Colombians. More Peruvians. A white family. Everyone. Different languages, different backgrounds, different preferences… yet we were all vibing together.

This wasn’t just a halftime show. It was history. A moment I’ll always remember.

And this morning, as I scrolled through my feed, it was clear: no one was talking about the Patriots or the Seahawks (PS: my husband and I are Patriots fans). Everyone was talking about the representation, the message, the moment.

And I cried again. Not from sadness. But because I am so. damn. proud.

Here’s the thing: growing up Puerto Rican in the U.S. has not been easy.

We are Americans.

We are legal birthright citizens.

And yet, we’ve rarely been treated as such. I was always “too white for Puerto Rico and too Latina for America.” I’ve faced prejudice within my own Hispanic community; looked down on for our accent, for supposedly thinking we’re “better” because we don’t need a visa. And from white America, I experienced the suppression, the belittling, the “know your place” energy has always been loud.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been told to “go back to my country” or asked if I’m afraid of being deported.

Newsflash: Puerto Ricans are born U.S. citizens. We don’t need a green card. We don’t need a visa. We don’t need to justify our place here.

Telling me to “go back to my country” is the same as telling someone to go back to their birth state.

Telling me to lose my accent is like asking someone from the South to drop their twang.

Telling me not to speak Spanish is like telling someone from Boston to stop speaking with their native dialect.

It’s exhausting. And I’m tired of it.

We need to stop erasing facts. We need to start educating ourselves. Puerto Rican culture is American culture.

Stop shrinking us. Stop suppressing us. Different is not dangerous. Different is beautiful. Culture isn’t a threat. It’s what moves the world forward.

Can you imagine a world where we lift each other up instead of trying to push each other down? I can. Because I see it every day in my own community.

My kids are being raised in a bicultural, trilingual household. They’re growing up tasting different flavors, dancing to different beats, hearing stories from all parts of the globe. Our friends are Vietnamese, Filipino, white, Black, Venezuelan, Dominican, Guyanese, Trinidadian, Jamaican, Haitian, Cuban — you name it. When we gather, we all bring something from our culture. Food. Music. Language. Love.

That’s the world I want for my daughters.

One where representation matters. One where culture is celebrated, not silenced. One where we stop dividing, and start rising…. together.

Let’s do better. Let’s be better.

The Benito Bowl wasn’t just a halftime show. It was a reminder.

Together We Are America

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