I’m a mom, feminist, and fan of J. Lo and Shakira’s Super Bowl halftime show

The Super Bowl is broadcast in over 130 countries in 30 languages. Viewership estimates for the 2020 game range between 99.9 and 102 million, making it the tenth most watched game in Super Bowl history. With that many people tuning in around the globe and so many brands using it as a platform to promote their products and services, it is undeniably a cultural touchpoint.

Fox reports that 103 million tuned in for the 2020 halftime show—over a million more than actually watched the game.

My husband and I recorded the game with plans to start watching as soon as we got our two-year-old and three-year-old to bed for the night. We finally turned it on around 8 p.m. but by 9 p.m. I was so tired, I went to bed. 

When I woke up the next day I immediately saw online chatter of the halftime show and as the morning went on I heard more from parents in our community. 

Parents who watched with their kids or hosted watch parties for their children and their friends were left flabbergasted during the performance. Do we turn it off? Let it play? Valid questions for any parent to have, especially if children other than their own were in the house.

I finally got a chance late Monday afternoon to watch the show. Initial takeaway? I liked it. As the day and week went on, I read articles pushing for a parental warning for future halftime shows, listened to Alt.Latino radio unpack the show, and discussed it with friends and family. 

While a warning or rating can, of course, help a parent decide whether or not to let their children watch the halftime show in their own home, it won’t prevent school-aged kids from hearing about it the next morning at school, at a practice the next afternoon, or seeing it on YouTube or news loops for the next week. With 103 million people seeing the show in real time, it’s going to be talked about. 

When Janet Jackson’s “wardrobe malfunction” occurred in 2004 I remember it being the talk of the high school halls the next day. I did not watch the halftime show that year (I’d, once again, gone to bed early). But, in 2004 our high school selves didn’t even have our Motorola Razrs yet (they didn’t hit the market until the third quarter of that year). So, the wardrobe malfunction was largely contained. It wasn’t at our fingertips to search, pull up, and watch and discuss among our peers. Today, the average age at which a child receives their first internet-enabled cell phone is 10. Even if your child does not have a cell phone, they likely have a peer in a class or practice who does. The halftime show is accessible long after the game is over and when parents won’t be there to police it.

As a parent, I would rather have my children watch the halftime show with me. Where I can guide the conversation, provide context, and answer questions they might have.

Sure, there were elements of the show I wouldn’t have chosen to have performed exactly as-is, but it wasn’t my show to choreograph. And that is a lesson in and of itself: the artist gets to decide the scope of a performance, not the audience. 

Ultimately, J.Lo and Shakira’s halftime show was a performance of empowerment. It was a celebration of culture and women. A championing of career. A call to be who you are, unapologetically.

Songs from across their decades-long careers were included in the mash-up and cultural nods were peppered throughout the performance. Shakira’s widely-memed tongue-flicking is an act of celebration in Lebanese culture called zaghrouta. Their clothing and dancing echoed carnival celebrations throughout Latin America (also already seen by and introduced to any kid who has watched the animated children’s movie Rio). This attire also was not new or atypical for Shakira and J. Lo performances. A concerned parent can do a quick search on announced performers and see previous shows. And as far as a “family-friendly” expectation for the Super Bowl goes, I’d be curious as to know whether parents are discussing the rap sheets of some of the athletes competing in the NFL (past and present). And bottom-line? Women can wear what they want. 

Shakira and J. Lo are two of the most-recognized Latinas in the U.S. and yet xenophobic Americans still only want to view them through a specific lens—a belief that J. Lo and Shakira should only perform in ways that Americans deem to be “appropriate” or “acceptable.”

When J. Lo brought her daughter on stage, started with Springsteen’s Born in the USA, and launched into Let’s Get Loud, I got chills. Jennifer Lopez and Shakira’s performance is ushering in the next-generation of Americans to a more accepting society. A place where what you wear, where you come from, and what your gender or sexuality is, does not dictate what you accomplish or who you become. 

This was a performance about being you–with pride, of not forcing yourself to fit into someone else’s prescribed notions or expectations for their comfort. All things I want to teach my children (along with discussing the elements of the show I could’ve done without) when they’re old enough to stay up for the halftime show, and I can stay awake long enough for it too.

So, yes. Let’s get loud. 

The sun will rise again

Anyone else’s kiddos go full bore when both parents are home? Memorial Day weekend was a recipe for exhaustion with both of us home with the kids for three days. Throw in a gardening project, a birthday party, and lots of playing outside and we’ve got some tired toddlers on our hands.

In the midst of the meltdowns I’m reminding myself to soak in these joyful moments like we do the sun.

May we drink in the light and use it to fuel us through the darkness. May we remember all darkness is temporary. May we find comfort in knowing the sun will always rise again.

The tears won’t last forever but the memories made in between will. Hang on, parents of the tiny humans. Don’t stress if they sob. Scoop ‘em up, squeeze ‘em tight, and remember, sunshine isn’t far away.

Moms come in many forms

mother's hand and child's hand linked with a garden in the background.

Moms come in many forms. You don’t have to grow a baby in your womb or nurse one at your breast to be a mom. If you’ve loved a child, supported a child, taught a child, coached a child, believed in a child, mentored a child, picked one up when they were down, wiped tears, wrapped band-aids around tiny fingers, lost sleep at night over their well-being, found yourself in tears because it has seemed impossible to be everything they need—and still managed to get it done, you’re a mom. If you’ve shown compassion, put your needs second to another’s, and loved unconditionally you’re a mom.

We step into many roles in our lives and the thing that makes “Mom” the easiest is also what makes it the hardest: there is nothing that matters more than your kids.

The greatest mark one can make is in the impact on another life. Our own laughter and tears are temporary but those shared with the next generations become stories that are told and retold, memories that defy time. It is through mothering, parenting, grandparenting, coaching, loving, caring, mentoring, and shaping the life of another, that our own presence becomes eternal.

Happy Mother’s Day to everyone who has loved a child.