The Super Bowl 59 Halftime show should be considered the final nail in the coffin of the Kendrick Lamar and Drake beef. However, that was only one layer of the halftime show. Lamar’s performance reflected a larger commentary on the current state of Black America’s social consciousness, giving the audience an “All American” performance that outlines current Black social unrest. As the Black community’s proclaimed “savior”, there’s a lack of weight or applicability in his performance—it’s beautifully surface-level.
“I want to perform their favorite song, but you know they love to sue.”
Following the Grammys, where Lamar and his team won multiple awards including Best Rap Song and Song of the Year, people anxiously awaited what Kendrick Lamar was going to do for the Super Bowl Halftime show. Lamar delivered, opting to “subtly” wear a bejeweled A-minor chain around his neck during the performance, in reference to a lyric regarding Drake being a pedophile and liking “a minor.” One of his featured guests was the beloved tennis star Serena Williams — who has been rumored to have had a complicated relationship with Drake — who crip-walked during the tease of “Not Like Us.” Topping off his revelry with a cheeky smile, Lamar turned towards the camera and said “Hey Drake” — a moment which would be meme’d to death across Twitter.
The beef between Kendrick Lamar and Drake has been one of the highlights of the last year for the rap community, and this seems to mark the end for both sides.
The beauty of Lamar’s performance lies within his symbolism. It opens with Uncle Sam(uel L. Jackson) announcing the start of “The Great American Game.” Football is considered one of the great American pastimes, and Lamar modernizes this concept by having his set design reference the buttons on PlayStation controllers: ✕, △, ◯, ▢. Lamar recognizes that most of the audience will consider this a light-hearted event that allows them to escape from the politically tense world outside the stadium walls.
One integral part of Lamar’s performance was his dancers. The beginning of the performance has them lined up to form the American flag with Lamar in the center. The dancers shift their positions throughout the performance; line formations similar to prison walks permeate the performance. Visual storytelling was essential to this performance, and Kendrick Lamar made it clear the imagery he was going for.
Black people have had a complicated relationship with the American flag. The ole red-white-and-blue symbolizes patriotism in American culture despite the country’s racist and exclusionary history and raises some complicated feelings from Black people. On one hand, how can you pledge your allegiance to a country that didn’t view you as a human, much less as a citizen? On the other hand, Black Americans have fought hard to reclaim this historical symbol and have it represent a “true American experience,” one which would include the history of adversity faced by the Black community.
“Too loud. Too reckless. Too ghetto.”
Uncle Sam’s satirical critique of Lamar’s performance mirrors what is commonly said about Black cultural expression, particularly when it comes to rap and hip-hop. In reality, rap and hip-hop have been some of the most prevalent tools of activism and political engagement for the Black community. Songs such as N.W.A’s “F*ck the Police,” Childish Gambino’s “This is America,” and Queen Latifah’s “U.N.I.T.Y.” have become anthems for the nuanced experience of Black people in the United States. Songs from Kendrick’s discography such as “DNA,” “Humble,” and “King Kunta” similarly served as political hymns for Black Americans. Moreover, they acknowledge his personal reckoning with being a mouthpiece of the Black community to the larger public.
However, Lamar’s art has been used for other political outcry by other movements, acting as unifying language. In turn, Lamar’s obligation to his fans, his people, is unfulfilled by his distance from movements that are not his own, as displayed very evidently in this performance.
Still, knowing how Kendrick’s public persona has been perceived, it begs the question: why didn’t he take the opportunity to stand firm on the principles of activism everyone associates him with? Activism thrives on social disruption and undeniable action, so why didn’t Kendrick Lamar say something while in front of U.S. President Donald Trump and other political figures, the government, and the American people? All eyes were on him and he chose to speak in metaphor — the perfect, “respectable” strategy.
“Mr. Lamar, do you really know how to play the game? Then TIGHTEN UP!”
The concept of “playing the game” is a common phrase in the Black community used to reflect the need to conform to white society to advance their prospects. In the same vein, this command to “tighten up!” is used by Black people to get other Black people to fall in line and become “respectable citizens.” Respectability politics is an issue within the Black community as it relates to social and class progression. Yet the broader, misinformed sentiment is that Black people have been viewed as less than due to poor habits, grooming, and social etiquette. Respectability politics has everything to do with perception. It is a common experience for a Black person to be called “ghetto” due to their behavior, their clothing, proudly displaying their culture, or their use of a regional accent or ethnolect like African-American Vernacular English (AAVE).
With such a politically charged performance, people were concerned about how conservatives and MAGA viewers would react. Although many Kendrick supporters were amazed by the performance, the majority of the stadium was silent. Some people weren’t singing along because they didn’t know the words. Kendrick wasn’t the right mouthpiece to deliver this message to the proper audience. Social media and news stations were flooded with critique, confusion, and anger, calling the Super Bowl 59 Halftime Show the worst of all time. Conservatives were not happy, and that was intentional. In part, Kendrick Lamar’s moment during the halftime show wasn’t a performance intended to appease white audience members and “jive along” to the status quo.
However, it still remains in the realm of “respectable” because he didn’t say anything too controversial; he just displayed something provocative, because Blackness in America will always be provocative.
Zül-Qarnaįn Nantambu, one of the dancers for Lamar’s Super Bowl performance, unfurled a combination of the Palestinian and Sudanese flags with the words “Sudan” and “Gaza” written on them in bold black lettering. His reasoning for doing this was partly inspired by the heavy use of flag motifs in Kendrick’s performance. In interviews with Al Jazeera, he expressed having seen it as “an opportunity on a grand scale to bring awareness of speak[ing] out against a wrong [against] our Muslim brothers and sisters. Because we’re spiritually connected in Islam, and we’re human and we’re connected with empathy for humanity.” Following this act, the NFL publicly announced that Nantambu would be permanently banned from entering all NFL stadiums. Roc Nation, Lamar’s label, confirmed that Nantambu had acted alone and his action was not planned to be a part of Kendrick’s performance.
In spite of everything, one random dancer faces greater consequences for his defiance compared to someone who society calls a musical activist. Nationally and globally, atrocities are happening that Kendrick could have called attention to. Think of “Free Palestine,” “Fuck ICE,” and “Free Congo.” Namtambu acted on his faith and took a risk by speaking up about a humanitarian crisis, while Lamar chose to stay silent.
Lamar had the national stage on which to speak—one about the humanitarian crises abroad and the other about Black America— and his silence on both spoke volumes.
Black elites like Lamar, or those who have a lot of social, cultural, and intellectual influences have the biggest platform to educate the broader community. Yet, the threat of losing their social capital prevents them from acting out. In other words: rich people would rather remain neutral than do what’s right. It is “respectable” to protect yourself. It is a sacrifice to advocate for the safety and liberation of others.
“The revolution ‘bout to be televised. You picked the right time, but the wrong guy.”
The poem “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” by Gil Scott-Heron has been referenced countless times throughout different advocacy efforts. Yet with this iteration, many were left feeling confused. Kendrick acknowledged that this moment was the right one to call out the political uproar beyond the stadium’s walls, yet he claimed he was the wrong guy. Kendrick has been praised many times for his storytelling abilities, so much so that he won a Pulitzer Prize for his lyricism in DAMN. So intentionally calling himself “the wrong guy” was an interesting rhetorical choice. Was it because he’s an outspoken rapper? That wouldn't make sense when the Super Bowl has had artists showcase their political agendas before (think of Michael Jackson and his “Heal the World” performance in 1993). Or was it a subtweet at Lil Wayne, who had been excited at the potential to perform at the Superbowl this year? Maybe it’s Lamar reaffirming what he’s said in previous interviews: “I’m not the savior of the Black community.”
If not Kendrick Lamar, then who? Does Kendrick Lamar have a social and racial obligation to the Black community to do so? Who do we rely on to be a mouthpiece for the community — for its victories, struggles, and desires?
If not Kendrick then commodifying Gil Scott-Heron’s poem for a punchline performance is sacrilegious. At the heart of Scott-Heron’s poem is a call for undeniable public mobilization. It calls for the community as a unit to let go of the narratives that have been created to distract and distance us from each other. Scott-Heron’s poem is a poignant command to “tighten up!” — a call for brothers- and sisters-in-arms to take to the streets and give up modern luxuries afforded by oppressive systemic regimes.
Lamar’s use of “right time, wrong guy” is a mockery of the afforded opportunity to say something. Simply relying on symbolism is not enough. People are tired of hearing “If you get it, you get it.” It’s time to say that shit with your full chest and put it all on the line because some niggas won’t ever get it.
GAME OVER.
