Why White People* Didn’t Like Kendrick Lamar’s Super Bowl Performance

*Not all white people. Some exclusions apply. Void where caucasity prohibited.

Screenshot/NFL via YouTube

My grandmother was not a moron.

My grandmama Marvell was a stern, austere woman who wore stockings to the supermarket and kept a purse full of extra-strength, Holy Ghost-powered peppermints with her at all times. She thought high-end vacuum cleaners were created for people too lazy to sweep their living room carpet with a straw broom. She was the opposite of highfalutin. But, while Marvell Harriot Sr. (She also had a daughter named Marvell) taught her grandchildren to “stay in a child’s place,” she always listened to my incessant rambling with the patience and reverence usually reserved for head deacons, bank tellers and white men. Because — more than anything — my grandma believed in treating everyone with dignity and respect …

Sometimes.

Whenever someone mistook my grandmother’s falutin-free straightforwardness for ignorance or simplemindedness, she would explain why she disagreed with a phrase that I eventually adopted:

“With all due respect … I don’t respect your opinion.”

As one of the highest-ranking teenage know-it-alls in the early ’90s, I once challenged the foundation of my grandma’s axiom. During a heated discussion over her lack of appreciation for the genre of African-American music known to Black elders as “that boompity-boomp mess,” I dismissed her phrase as a “senseless oxymoron.”

“I ain’t nobody’s moron,” she replied gently.

“No, grandma, an oxymoron is …” I said, partly shocked that the Black had not yet been knocked off of me. The woman I respected more than anyone on earth interrupted me with a strange sound resembling an audible amused expression. It wasn’t quite a laugh, but it obviously wasn’t a giggle (According to numerous studies, 98.3% of all Black grandmothers are genetically incapable of sniggling and/or giggling). Whatever it was, the greater Marvell laid her unfinished cross-stitching masterpiece in her lap and trained her eyes toward the Harriot’s smartest aleck.

“I know what an oxymoron is,” she said. “It’s when you contradict yourself. I’m not.”

“But how can you give someone respect and then say you don’t respect their opinion?” I asked with genuine curiosity. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“You should give everyone the respect they deserve,” she said patiently. “Some people don’t know what they’re talking about. You can still appreciate someone as a person and disagree that their point of view is different from yours. Even if the thing they believe is wrong.”

For the 2,549th time, she was correct. Although my grandmother’s entire life predates the internet, this valuable life lesson became the cornerstone of my social media philosophy. It’s why I am not inclined to listen to conservatives whitesplain American-style racism or well-meaning Democratic insiders dissecting why Kamala Harris lost. It’s why I don’t care to discuss macroeconomics with dimwits who draw cartoons for a living.

And, with all due respect, I don’t respect white people’s opinions on Kendrick Lamar’s Super Bowl halftime show.

No more handshakes and hugs
the energy only circulates through us.
Everybody must be judged
But this time, God only favorin' us.

Before casting the Super Bowl halftime show as an extension of Black culture, perhaps I should consult an expert.

“Super Bowl halftime shows were not the popular-culture spectacles they are today,” explains a small sports startup called the National Football League. “They usually had themes, such as ‘Winter Magic,’ a 1992 Winter Olympics show, or ‘Be Bop Bamboozled’ and they were not widely popular.” But in 1993, Keenan Ivory Wayans — the executive producer of Fox’s hit show “In Living Color” — “plotted an assault on the National Football League” by airing an episode during halftime of the Super Bowl. Ever since that renegade act drew more than 20 million viewers during the Super Bowl, most of the halftime shows have been headlined by Black artists, including the three most-watched performances of all time.

“The revolution ‘bout to be televised,” spat Kung Fu Kenny. “You picked the right time but the wrong guy.”

In a blackity-Black performance that opened with the line: “Everybody must be judged, But this time, God only favorin' us,” Kung Fu Kenny delivered 13 minutes of spectacular brilliance. To be fair, K-Dot was not celebrating hip-hop, the West Coast or even hip-hop. He was celebrating us.

I respect these people’s opinions:

However, when Kendrick Lamar was announced as the headliner for Super Bowl LIX, I sincerely hoped it would be described as the “worst halftime show ever.” Nothing would please me more than people thinking his performance was “wack as fuck.” It would be icing on the cake if K-Dot disappointed a right-wing MAGA blowhard who knows as much about hip-hop as my 70-year-old grandmother.

This is what white icing looks like:

It’s not that I don’t respect these people (even though I don’t respect these people). However, I understand why people who use “a pinch of salt” as a spice didn’t appreciate Lamar’s performance. Just as my 70-year-old grandma couldn’t appreciate LL Cool J (even though his grandmother specifically told him to knock you out), it is impossible for someone who spent zero years on the planet as a Black person to understand why grilled-out doo-wop singers, an American flag made up of Black people wearing masks and a crip-walking Serena Williams was a thing to behold. While this is not the place to find cultural references Blacksplained for the consumption of curious Caucasians, there is one secret that most white Americans still haven’t grasped.

If white people like it, you’re probably doing it wrong.

Whether you are a Black journalist, a Black politician, a civil rights activist or one of the greatest artists in the world’s biggest musical genre, being embraced by widespread white approval is one of the surest ways to fail. They hated Beyoncé’s pro-Black Super Bowl performance and they hated her country album. Had Kendrick Lamar even attempted to please white America, he would have been as well-received as Usher’s “fizzled” performance or Kamala Harris’ “campaign.”

Whenever a Black person is being their authentic selves, white people usually hate it. Before the comment section is deluged with infinite variations of “not all white people,” I should point out that the word “all” does not appear alongside “white people” anywhere on this site. We’re talking about the statistical majority of white Americans responsible for Donald Trump having a higher approval rating right now than Barack Obama’s at any time during his entire presidency (to be fair, after Obama’s 166th day in office, he never received a majority of white approval). There was not a second of Martin Luther King Jr.’s entire life where most white Americans approved of the civil rights movement. Then again, most white people believe that teaching the history of racism in the U.S. is bad for society. And when it comes to politics, employment, financial institutions and the medical establishment, a majority of white people do not believe Black people are treated less fairly than whites.

In the 248-year history of this country, there isn’t a single example of a pro-Black activist, artist or celebrity who spoke out on Black issues without facing white backlash. Not one. However, there is one way that an artist can make sure their creative impact is embraced all over the world.

Be Black.

One of the reasons Kendrick Lamar’s performance was so inspiring is that it was so unapologetically Black. Even if there is nothing one of the greatest rappers who ever walked the planet could have done to please white America, we appreciate the fact that Lamar refused to try. Every successful Black artist eventually faces a choice: they choose to pursue the fruitless endeavor of white acceptance or stand with the culture and people that birthed their careers. While calling his performance brave might be an overstatement, being unapologetically Black in the blinding glare of the white gaze can inspire those whose lives and humanity are under constant attack. It’s why white people took five years to realize the importance of Colin Kaepernick’s protest and why Black people are still disappointed at Snoop tap dancing at a MAGA shindig. That’s why Black art is powerful. That’s also why it’s hated. As Kung Fu Kenny said:

It’s a cultural divide, I’mma get it on the floor
40 acres and a mule,
This is bigger than the music.
They tried to rig the game
but you can’t fake influence

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Years after my grandmother’s impromptu vocabulary lesson, she burst into our room (Although it was where I slept, Black children cannot say “my room” in a house where they don’t pay the mortgage) and started lecturing me about listening to “the devil’s music.” As she sermonized, I remembered the message she’d delivered years earlier. But instead of childsplaining hip-hop to a 70-year-old woman who would never appreciate a song called “Fuck Tha Police,” I turned down my boom box and said:

“Grandma, with all due respect, I don’t respect your opinion.”

I understand why that made her mad …

I’m not a moron.