Stronger than Hate? Love.

My I said what I said blog usually waits until Friday—but this one couldn’t. I’m too mad. Too frustrated. Too tired of watching the same ugly patterns repeat themselves while people pretend nothing is wrong.

Now let’s talk about the Super Bowl—because clearly, as a country, we are still refusing to learn.

Somehow, in a nation that never shuts up about freedom, unity, and equality, we managed to do something wildly embarrassing: we segregated the Super Bowl. Again. Because a group of loud, fragile “Americans” decided that Bad Bunny wasn’t good enough—or more honestly, wasn’t American enough—to perform. So Turning Point USA felt justified in creating their own separate event, their own stage, their own sanitized version of what they think America should look and sound like.

And people are supposed to believe this isn’t rooted in hate?

Let’s stop pretending this was about talent or taste. This wasn’t about music preference. This wasn’t about “family values.” This was about discomfort with culture, language, and a refusal to accept that America does not look, sound, or speak one single way.

Bad Bunny is American. Period. He is Puerto Rican. Puerto Rico is part of the United States whether people acknowledge it or not. You don’t get to erase an entire population because they don’t fit your idea of what an American should be. That mindset is outdated, ignorant, and dangerous.

Bad Bunny is a hard-working, inspiring artist who earned his place on that stage. He didn’t take shortcuts. He didn’t water himself down to be palatable. He showed up as himself—and that’s exactly what makes him powerful. On top of his music, he created the Good Bunny Foundation, an organization dedicated to supporting children and young people in underserved communities, especially in Puerto Rico. The foundation focuses on giving kids access to music, arts, and sports—things that open doors, build confidence, and change lives.

That’s not just an artist. That’s someone investing in the future.

Meanwhile, we have grown adults throwing tantrums because a Spanish-speaking artist dared to exist on a global stage. And instead of asking themselves why they’re so uncomfortable, they chose separation. Again. That choice says everything.

What really infuriates me is this: we claim to care about the next generation, but what are we actually teaching them? Because children are watching. They are absorbing every comment, every side-eye, every “he doesn’t belong here.” Hate isn’t born—it’s taught. And when adults refuse to do better, that poison gets passed down like a family heirloom.

If we don’t get our shit together now, this country will never get better. Ever. Because hate doesn’t disappear on its own—it multiplies. It grows when it’s ignored, excused, or disguised as patriotism. And every time we choose division over understanding, we hand the next generation the same broken mess and tell them to figure it out.

That’s not leadership. That’s failure.

Equality isn’t something you post about once a year. It’s something you live. It’s something you practice when it’s uncomfortable, when it challenges your worldview, when it forces you to confront your own bias. Growth requires effort. Love requires humility. And America desperately lacks both right now.

We don’t move forward by excluding voices.

We don’t heal by building walls.

We don’t improve by clinging to fear.

We grow when we choose love—even when hate feels easier.

Bad Bunny said it best, and it’s a message this country needs to hear again and again:

“The only thing more powerful than hate is love.”

And I said what I said.