It felt like a massive earthquake—transformative, spiritual, and historic—that unfolded at the Super Bowl. A tremor that seemed to shake heaven and earth, reaching deep into the souls of those inside the stadium and the millions watching and listening around the world.
It was as if a prophet had emerged, carrying something called a football, upon which was inscribed the message: “WE ARE ALL AMERICA.”
He opened his sacred book—the book of books—and took us to a place called Puerto Rico, connecting us to historical struggles and to dreams that go far beyond what is known as the American Dream.
He danced, sang, rapped, prayed, and embraced the spotlight for 13 intense minutes, creating a powerful, beautiful, and deeply moving vision of Latin American culture and music.
Even the most hardened by life set aside their habits—their pipes and syringes—while, along with so many others walking that same path, they were transported on a magic carpet that interrupted, even if only for a moment, their daily struggle to survive in this chaotic world. It was, without a doubt, the greatest journey of all journeys.
For those 13 minutes, everyone was honored, everyone was sacred. And this prophet reminded us that we do not need a specific language to understand music and dance, because they are our universal—even intergalactic—forms of communication.
For a moment, the oppressed shook off the chains of racism, sexism, and hate, and instead smiled, shouted, and danced with overflowing hearts.
From Africa to Asia, entire countries began to reinterpret their own realities through this message of love delivered by a prophet from one of the smallest geographies in the world.
Earthquakes always have aftershocks, and sometimes they are as powerful—or even more so—than the original tremor.
As people left Levi’s Stadium in Santa Clara, powerful echoes were already being felt in Colombia, Brazil, Australia, and Japan. Brazil, not easily moved, embraced the moment with its musical soul. In Australia, a Latino presence long overlooked became visible. And in Japan, people were soon singing the lyrics as if they had grown up on Puerto Rican rum, Dominican beer, or tequila.
Racist elements on the far right tried to silence this prophet, demanding that he sing only in English. He responded firmly: “English was not my first language, nor was it the first language of the Americas.” And for the record, the United States has no official language.
The aftershocks have been so powerful and so beautiful that those who preach fear have begun to retreat in the face of this message of love.
Millions have watched these 13 minutes again and again. As I write this, I confess I have watched the performance more than 20 times and have listened to dozens of hours of commentary filled with emotion from every corner of the world.
There were so many signs, symbols, and meanings in those 13 minutes that archaeologists, anthropologists, and social scientists could spend centuries unraveling every layer of this earthquake that shook consciousness, freeing minds, hearts, and imaginations.
A flock of false prophets from the American right tried to overpower him, riding on fear and hate, against a single man—his language, his dreams, his love for all people under the sun.
But they were defeated. Not with hate, but with LOVE.
Today, many are asking how to build and share more of this new religion of hope and freedom.
And this humble prophet reminded us that his journey began with something simple yet powerful: he never stopped believing in himself. And he invited us to do the same… opening the door to a better tomorrow.
Editor’s Note:
This article was submitted on March 12, 2023, by our beloved Leno. It was one of the last pieces he wrote before passing on to eternal life. We share it in honor of his legacy, his voice, and his invaluable contribution to our community.