The subversive genius of Ken
amar’s Super Bowl halftime performance
Music Mondays (or Late Sunday Nights): Kendrick Lamar
Philosophical Reflections on the Super Bowl Halftime Show
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The Compton MC might have just given us the biggest rap performance ever
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This week, Kendrick Lamar took the Super Bowl stage and did what he always does—he made a statement. And like all pieces of art, some people got it, some didn’t, and some will be unpacking it for years. But make no mistake: this was a deliberate act of defiance wrapped in a halftime show. A moment of subversion disguised as entertainment. A public rebuke camouflaged in a cultural spectacle.
Lamar has never been just an artist. He’s a storyteller, a prophet, and a master of layering meaning into his work. And if you weren’t paying attention, you might have missed what he was really saying. But for those who saw it? Whew. There was a lot going on!
The Hidden Transcript: What Kendrick Was Really Saying
James C. Scott, in Domination and the Arts of Resistance, describes something called the “hidden transcript”—the coded ways in which oppressed people speak truth to power when outright rebellion isn’t an option. Lamar is fluent in this language.
He knows the Super Bowl is not a protest stage—it’s corporate America’s halftime spectacle. He knows he’s playing within a system that has historically shut down explicit Black resistance. So instead, he does what generations of Black artists before him have done: he embeds the message beneath the surface, forces you to engage with it, to dissect it, to feel it even if you don’t fully understand it.
This isn’t new for him. Lamar has spent his entire career weaving hidden transcripts into his work. His Pulitzer Prize-winning album DAMN. was a meditation on power, race, and faith, wrestling with the contradictions of Black success in America. To Pimp a Butterfly was a manifesto on identity and exploitation, a love letter to Blackness wrapped in a critique of the machine that profits from it. It foreshadows Lamar’s Super Bowl Performance and the reaction it received— the audience wanted a song and a dance, but the artist resisted the exploitation of the art.
Hidden transcripts are not a new phenomenon—they are deeply embedded in biblical literature, particularly in the texts that liberation theologians have long used to articulate their belief in God’s preference for the oppressed. The Bible, especially in times of empire and occupation, is full of coded resistance language, stories, and apocalyptic visions that speak against domination without inviting immediate persecution.
Take the Book of Revelation, for instance. To the untrained eye, it reads like a cryptic fever dream—beasts, dragons, cosmic battles. But for those who understand the historical moment, it’s clear: John of Patmos wasn’t writing about some far-off, end-of-time scenario. He was writing about Rome. The empire. The beast that crushed those under its rule. The coded language of Revelation allowed early Christians to express defiance against a violent imperial system without putting their lives on the line. It was a survival mechanism, a theological cheat code.
Jesus himself spoke in hidden transcripts. His parables weren’t just quaint moral stories—they were radical, subversive critiques of the ruling elite. When he talked about the Kingdom of God, he wasn’t just talking about heaven; he was talking about a new order, one where the last would be first and the first would be last. That kind of rhetoric wasn’t just spiritual—it was deeply political, a direct challenge to the Roman occupation and the religious leaders who upheld the status quo.
Liberation theologians have long argued that the Bible is, at its core, a resistance document. From the Exodus story of enslaved people demanding their freedom to Jesus’ ministry among the poor and marginalized, scripture is full of moments where the oppressed speak truth to power—often in ways that their oppressors cannot immediately decipher. Like Kendrick Lamar’s performance, these texts operate on multiple levels. Some will see only the surface. Others will recognize the revolution just beneath.
Deciphering the Iconography and Symbolism
While I cannot speak for Lamar, there were some images that jumped off the screen at me. The first thing that stood out was the choreography during “Humble.” The fractured American flag imagery wasn’t accidental. That flag—carried by Black performers of all shades—was a redefinition of patriotism, a statement about who belongs in America and who historically hasn’t. It was a reminder that to be Black in America is to live in the tension between citizenship and exclusion. Between the promise of the flag and the reality of it. And yet, there was Lamar, standing in the center of it all, fully aware of the weight of that symbolism.
Then there was the giant game controller stage. Not just a cool set piece—this was a direct statement on control. As he rapped, “You can’t control us,” he stood inside a literal representation of the system that seeks to manipulate Black culture while exploiting it for profit. And this wasn’t just about the music industry. This was bigger than that. This was about the political system, the economic system, sports, the media—all of it. The ways in which Black creativity, labor, and bodies have been historically “played” like a game, used for entertainment but denied real agency. And right there, on the biggest stage in American pop culture, Lamar took back the controls.
And then there was Uncle Sam.
Samuel L. Jackson’s role as the living embodiment of America’s favorite propaganda icon was both hilarious and deeply unsettling. Uncle Sam—now reimagined as a cultural gatekeeper, questioning Lamar’s place in the “Great American Game”—wasn’t just a mascot. He was the voice of the establishment, the system itself speaking through an icon.
“Do you really know how to play the game?” Jackson sneered, mocking the way America sets impossible standards for Black success. “That’s what America wants. Nice, calm. You’re almost there, don’t mess this up.”
Sound familiar? It should. This is the same coded messaging Black athletes, entertainers, and professionals have been hearing for decades. Be talented, but not too bold. Be successful, but not too outspoken. Play the game, but never think you can change the rules.
And then came the most loaded line of all: “The old culture cheat code…scorekeeper, deduct one life.”
If you didn’t catch that one, let’s break it down. In gaming, a cheat code gives the player an advantage, an extra chance at survival. But here, in Lamar’s world, the “cheat code” wasn’t an unfair edge—it was community. It was the idea that Black people, through collectivism and cultural resilience, have always found ways to survive and thrive despite the odds. And yet, in the eyes of the system, even that is unacceptable. The moment Black people support each other? The moment they build something of their own? Deduct one life.
That’s the game.
And Kendrick Lamar knows it well.
The Super Bowl as a Battlefield for Cultural Resistance
Lamar’s performance joins a long history of Black artists using the Super Bowl stage to make a statement—whether the audience realized it or not.
Beyoncé did it with Formation, invoking the Black Panthers. Prince did it with Purple Rain, refusing to water down his artistry. Lamar followed in their footsteps, using every tool at his disposal—symbolism, iconography, theatricality—to craft something that was more than a halftime show. It was resistance art in real-time.
And yet, there will always be people who miss the message. That’s the beauty of this kind of art. To some, it was just a cool show with great production. To others, it was a masterpiece of subversion.
Lamar knew this. He always does.
Because resistance isn’t just about what’s said—it’s about who has ears to hear.
And Kendrick Lamar? He made sure that for those who were really listening, the message came through loud and clear.
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BLACK HISTORY MONTH 2025 | This post is very different. After reading too many comments about people not liking the halftime show, I had to research.
Disclaimer: I would not know Kendrick Lamar if he sat beside me at church. Prior to me researching today, all I knew was he is rapper who made a song during a conflict with another rapper. So, this post took two hours of work!
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My summary of Kendrick Lamar’s Super Bowl performance.
It wasn’t meant to entertain. It was a creative, theatrical protest designed to inform and reveal. Every person who participated in that show put their career at risk to protest sgainst the system that pays them.
It started with MC Lyte introducing the halftime show. The “stage” is set up like The Squid Games, a popular Netflix show about how rich people used a game to kill poor people for their entertainment. The games Lamar is speaking of are the media and systematic oppression.
Then appeared Samuel Jackson, announcing, “It’s your uncle, Sam”. Researched revealed this is a throwback to his character in the movie Django, which I haven’t seen.
Lamar says, “everyone must be judged but this time God is favoring us”. - Could this be saying Black people wont experience the horrors in this “movement” as they did in previous “movements”?
The revolution is about to be televised. Picked the right time but the wrong guy. - The right time because we now have access and tools to reveal in real time the atrocities happening throughout our country. We are seeing this as government workers are showing us in real time the people working on behalf of #47 to systematically destroy and challenge the foundation of this country. No one is safe.
The dancers were dressed in prison clothes, highlighting mass incarceration. The dancers also showed how the incarcerated are so institutionalized, it’s like a dance, a routine, and a way of synchronized life.
Uncle Sam interrupted again proclaiming they are “too loud, too reckless, and too ghetto”. Then he asked if they really know how to play the game. - It’s a warning. If you want people to listen to you, do it in a way they won’t reject. Also, it highlights how Black people are often labeled to distract from their message. Play the game and code switch.
The dancers are wearing red, white, and blue. They move into a “divided flag”, showing the riff in America (#47 followers vs everyone else) and how America is separating from the rest of the word (tariffs, attempts to colonize random countries, etc).
They show a group of dancers giving the impression they are hanging outside at a corner. Lamar asks, “do you want the dangerous me or the famous me?”- The dangerous “me” is the informed “me”. The famous “me” is the one who plays your (America’s) games to fit in, entertain, and be quiet. It’s not loss that he says this at a football game. Many players have been criticized for speaking up and told to “just play the game”.
Uncle Sam returns to confirm this by saying, “Scorekeeper, deduct one life”. When we speak out, we are risking our lives. When we don’t play the game, society takes away a life (incarceration, rejection, defunding public services, careers (Kapernick), etc). It also highlights how people get “cancelled” for not playing the game.
Uncle Sam returns to proclaim, “you have lost your mind”. Upon research, this is referring to a song currently part of legal litigation.
Lamar slows the music and goes into a Luther Vandross remix, If This World Were Mine. The title along is a message.
Uncle Sam interjects. “That’s what America wants. Nice and a calm.” - Society doesn’t like when the Global Majority, non-White people, own our power. Society wants us to code switch in life and go along with “the game”. They dont want loud and proud, well, unless youre a J6er
The camera shows “bodies on the floor”. - Is the highlighting the genocide of the Global Majority? The accepted mass killings of Black people, BIPOC, and others.
—— Other notes
* 40 acres and a mule. This is bigger than music. - He’s reminding all that while others have received reparations, Black people have not.
* Serena Williams is shown “crip walking”. It’s a dance originating in Compton, CA, where her & Lamar are from. This is also a statement about protecting Black women, as I learned Williams used to date Drake (the guy Lamar had a beef with) and Drake made some negative statements about Williams and her family. The other lady performer also ised to date Drake
* The media has always used Black people to entertain. They control the messaging used to entertain others to ease the feelings of the oppressors. This dates back to slavery when the enslaved were forced to sing & dance or be beat or sold.
* The audience forms a message in the stands that says “Game Over”. Lamar then says, “turn the TV off”. This movement, this revolution, is no longer a game.
It’s not entertainment. We aren’t playing your game. That’s over.
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