From Rabbi Adam Zagoria- Moffet’s Thought for Thursday
Generally I don’t pay a great deal of attention to either the Grammys or the Super Bowl – for different reasons. On the latter foot, American Football is undeniably dull, and on the first, there’s just far far too many awards shows. That said – I’ve been drawn into thinking about both events the last few weeks thanks to the same individual: Benito Antonio Martinez Ocasio, AKA Bad Bunny.
For those who missed it – Bad Bunny is an American rapper from Puerto Rico who made headlines first with his Grammy speech. When he took the stage to receive his award he spoke to the audience in Spanish, unapologetically and fluidly. This makes a lot of sense, because the award he won was for his album Debi Tirar Más Fotos, an entirely Spanish-language album. What’s even more amazing is that he didn’t win ‘Latin Album of the Year’, he won ‘Album of the Year’, for an album in Spanish.
Then, at the Super Bowl half-time show (the third most watched ever), Bad Bunny delivered an incredible performance bursting with pride, joy, and in irrepressible insistence on being seen and heard – in Spanish. The entire half-time performance (including a live on-stage wedding) was exuberantly en Español.
If it’s your sort of thing, watch the half-time show. What comes across is unrepentant pride at being a Puerto Rican American, and a message of resistance which doesn’t require Bad Bunny to imagine himself the victim in order to claim grievance (his show included powerful reference to Hurricane Maria in 2017 and the Trump Administration’s active neglect of Puerto Rico’s recovery).
I can’t help but feel (and I’m not the only one), that this is a considerable contrast to the way that we in the Jewish community have responded to hatred and antisemitism. The CST just put out their annual report on antisemitism and in a surprise to no one, it remains at record highs. There were over four times as many antisemitic incidents in the UK in 2025 as there were in 2015. The sense of panic and dread that has been created by the creep of genuinely terrifying antisemitic violence is impossible to deny. The question perhaps, is what we should do about it.
Hen Mazzig, an online advocate for Jews and Judaism, wrote that we should be dealing with antisemitism much more in the way Bad Bunny modelled:
“For far too long, the “minority experience” has been framed as a negotiation. Whether you are Latino, Black, Asian, or Jewish, the unspoken rule has often been the same: to belong, you must first prove that you are “safe.” You must demonstrate your utility, minimize your differences, and, above all, politely ask for a seat at the table. We have been conditioned to believe that acceptance is a gift granted by the majority in exchange for our docility or our trauma.
But look at how Bad Bunny occupied the Super Bowl stage — during a 13-minute celebration of Puerto Rican culture all in Spanish and featuring the island’s iconic sounds and dances and imagery that alluded to its colonial history, its vivid street culture and even its historic challenges (like its overtaxed electrical grid).
Bad Bunny didn’t ask for permission. He didn’t ask for pity. He didn’t frame his community as a project to be fixed, a political talking point to be debated, or a tragedy to be mourned. Instead, he led with culture. He led with language. He led with an unapologetic, infectious joy that didn’t pause to translate itself for those who didn’t understand. He performed as if he already belonged — not because he had been graciously invited, but because his presence was an objective, immovable fact.”
Hen is, I think, very right about this.
One way that we can model such an approach is just to show up, publicly and proudly as Jews. Wear that Star of David, identify yourself without seeking permission, and most of all – learn and speak and use Hebrew, our language and the link to our culture.
I’m restarting my own Adult Beginner Hebrew class this week. Click here if you’re interested to join – but however you find a way to show up as Jewish, try and do so with less anxiety, less apology, and more abundance, energetic, enthusiastic joy.
I’ll leave the last word to Hen once again:
“The lesson is simple, yet revolutionary for those of us used to fighting for crumbs of acceptance: Stop asking for a seat. Own the room. Our presence is not a debate to be won; it is a reality to be lived. When we lead with our humanity and our strength, we stop being a target for pity and start being a force for inspiration. If you want to see what the future of inclusion looks like, be a little more like Bad Bunny.”
