A reminder that diversity is not a threat — it is America’s strength.

By The Honorable Rick Singh
Former Orange County Property Appraiser

Bad Bunny’s halftime performance reminded us of something every American needs to hear right now:

We may come from different places, but we share far more in common than we sometimes realize. Our greatest strength has always been our willingness to embrace diversity — not fear it.

As an elected official, I delivered many speeches over the years. But one of the most meaningful moments of my public service was speaking to newly sworn American citizens — individuals who had taken their oath of citizenship just minutes before I addressed them.

I can tell you this: they were some of the proudest Americans I have ever encountered — men and women from every corner of the world, united by one oath and one dream.

For many, English was a second language. For some, this was the first country they had ever traveled to. But the pride in their eyes was unmistakable.

Watching them always brought me back to my own story.

I still remember arriving in America as a 10-year-old after spending my first decade of life in tropical Guyana — and experiencing so many things for the first time: winter in New York City without a coat, running water, electricity, trains, cars, and even an escalator, which absolutely terrified me.

I shared those experiences with them. I also shared my mother’s journey — her strength and sacrifice — which inspired me and reminded me of what so many immigrant families endure with quiet courage.

And I reminded those new Americans of something important:

Be proud of your culture.
Be proud of your food.
Be proud of your faith.
Be proud of your music.

Not only be proud of it — share it.

Share it with your American neighbors and friends, because that’s how we foster harmony and understanding.

When we share our traditions, we don’t just celebrate who we are — we educate. We break down stereotypes. We replace fear with familiarity. And we turn strangers into neighbors.

That is how we grow closer. That is how we build community.

And that brings me back to Bad Bunny.

His performance spoke powerfully to the idea of diversity — and to the universal language that connects all people: music. In many ways, it was world culture presented on one of America’s biggest stages.

It was also a master class in Puerto Rican culture — which I must remind some people is American culture.

Like so much of Latin America and the Caribbean, it also carried a deeper story: slavery and the legacy of indentured laborers, including those brought from India, who cut sugar cane and planted crops that fueled global empires.

When I saw the sugar cane fields in the performance visuals, I was reminded of where I was born — Guyana — where I spent my first ten years of life. My parents were humble sugar cane farmers.

The coconut stand selling fresh coconuts reminded me of Bourda Market in Georgetown.

And the vibrant Latin music took me right back to my childhood in the Bronx — hearing legends like El Gran Combo de Puerto Rico, Tito Puente, Eddie Palmieri, and Iris Chacón playing from apartment windows or speakers on fire escapes.

Different cultures.
Different rhythms.
Different drums from different lands.

But one shared spirit.

That’s America.

And when we embrace that truth, we don’t become weaker — we become stronger.

Because the reality is simple:

Together, we are all American.

Across Latin America and the Caribbean — regardless of language, flag, or heritage — we share lived experiences shaped by common history: agricultural roots, multi-generational homes, the neighborhood bodega or corner shop, struggle and resilience, rhythm and resistance, elders playing dominoes, and families gathering around food and music.

It’s not geography.
It’s identity.

It’s music.

In the end, Bad Bunny delivered something meaningful — not just for Puerto Ricans, but for every immigrant and every family with a story like mine.

His performance wasn’t just music and spectacle. It was a reflection of who we are, where we come from, and what we’ve overcome.

It reminded millions that being American isn’t about looking a certain way or speaking a certain language. It’s about owning your story, celebrating your roots, and contributing that richness to the shared tapestry of this country.

Boricua love, baby — you’ve got to love it.