Translating Kendrick Lamar for People Who are NOT LIKE US

I’m writing this as a woman who spends 99.9% of her time listening to praise and worship music, with the occasional 0.1% dedicated to some old-school jams when my husband and I are in the mood for a romantic evening (Marvin Gaye definitely sets the vibe!). I have a deep respect for Kendrick Lamar, though I wouldn’t call myself a die-hard fan. His music, heavy on profanity and sometimes tackling themes that don’t quite resonate with me, has never made it to my playlist (CeCe Winans and Kendrick just don’t mix!). Still, I admire him for how he’s overcome so many challenges to get where he is. I respect how he uses his platform to shine a light on societal issues. I admire that he’s been with the same woman since high school, and I genuinely sense that he’s striving to be the best man he can be. I believe he has a heart that truly cares about humanity.

I feel the same admiration for Kendrick that I had for Tupac (I often find myself saying, “I wish Tupac were still alive”). Yes, much of Tupac’s music was a bit too intense for my heart and mind, but I loved how he used his platform to highlight the systemic injustices in America. Like Kendrick, Tupac wasn’t just a rapper but also a lover of literature, and both of them bring that love into their music. It’s clear in the way their work sparks Socratic dialogue, even if many don’t realize it—it gets you thinking.

I’ve seen many people either say, “I don’t understand anything Kendrick is saying” or “He’s just talking about all the struggles Black people face and how messed up hip-hop is.” These statements come from a parallel universe where Kendrick’s language feels so foreign that a translator is needed. As someone who hasn’t delved deeply into his music, I want to attempt to translate his Super Bowl performance (try watching it again after reading this and see if it begins to make sense) and help people understand why it moved so many. I’m not going to break down every single detail, but I’ll touch on some key moments as a sort of crash course. My hope is that by highlighting these parts, more people will begin to appreciate it as the incredible piece of art that it truly is.

1. All the performers were Black, and their costumes were red, white, and blue. I believe this was Kendrick’s way of making a statement: Black people are part of the American story. Our story may be different, but it’s still integral to the narrative. We helped build this country, often at the cost of our enslaved ancestors’ labor. Yet somehow, White America feels that when we try to share our story, it creates division. But the reality is, White people are not like us. Their history, their existence, and their way of being are often in stark contrast to ours. When we express our truths, as Kendrick did at the Super Bowl, it offends some, because to them, unity means silencing all other stories in favor of only honoring their own human experience. Kendrick’s performance was his way of saying, “It’s okay if you’re not like us.” Our story is just as vital to the American story, and we should never be afraid to share it with the world.
2. Uncle Sam was Samuel L. Jackson playing an Uncle Tom. Part of the Black experience in America has been the struggle to assimilate in order to be accepted, often at the cost of hiding our culture and self-expression. We’ve all seen those Black individuals who try to downplay Black culture, but notice how, every time Samuel L. Jackson tried to get the performers to “calm down,” they boldly interrupted him and continued to perform. America’s history has been one of silencing us, trying to make us conform. Take Serena Williams, for example—when she first performed that same dance at Wimbledon, both White and Black people criticized her for bringing too much of her culture into a predominantly White space. Kendrick’s invitation for her to dance freely during his performance was an act of liberation, allowing her to unapologetically express her culture. We, as a people, often seek acceptance in White spaces, but Kendrick’s message was clear: “Sis, I’m creating space for you. You no longer have to hide who you are. Dance freely, sis.” Serena later described that brief moment as the greatest of her life. Throughout her career, she’s been ridiculed, even by her own community, for her African features and body. She’s often been called “ugly,” and while she may have found love with a White man, she was still searching for acceptance within her own community. Kendrick gave her that acceptance, and in doing so, he offered all of us the freedom to stop hiding and start embracing our culture without fear of judgment—from Uncle Toms, assimilationists, White people, or anyone who isn’t like us telling us we shouldn’t be who we are.
3. References to Drake. My son felt like Kendrick was bullying Drake too much, but there’s something I’ve learned about Kendrick: he’s been with the same woman since high school, he’s a loving father, and he deeply cares for his family (and he has a little sister). After leaving the gang life, he chose a cleaner path, even converting to Christianity (um…he may need some more discipleship though! 🥰). In the hip-hop world, he’s witnessed things that have disgusted him. We all know about Drake’s mistreatment of Serena and other women. Once Drake called Kendrick out, Kendrick continued to challenge him for his disrespect toward women and girls. I sense that this comes from a place of genuine disgust, not just bullying. I also noticed that in his performance, none of the women were dressed provocatively or moving in sexually suggestive ways. While he may have featured women in different ways in other songs or videos, this time he showcased a deep respect for women. From featuring Serena, who has been devalued both in the tennis world and by Drake, to the women in his chorus—dressed in white and placed at the center of his performance—Kendrick was subtly telling Drake, “This is how you treat women.” Black women, in particular, have been mistreated in America since we arrived—often seen as nothing more than the master’s sex object or breeders for more slaves. We were passed around on plantations and shared by the master and his family. Kendrick was calling out Drake for adopting that same mentality. He was making it clear that men who disrespect Black women are NOT LIKE US. We honor our women, and we give them the space to shine.
4. The Divided Flag: Kendrick acknowledges that American culture is divided, but he places himself right in the middle of it. I like that he doesn’t make it a Black vs. White issue; instead, he seems to be saying we’re all contributing to the division. And yet, he stands in the middle, representing anyone who wants to be the bridge between us. America was born divided, and after slavery ended, the division didn’t stop—Reconstruction ended with Andrew Johnson, which gave way to Jim Crow, a time when Black and White people couldn’t mix at all. Kendrick is reminding us that today, we’re divided not just by race, but by politics, belief systems, lifestyles, culture…even within the Black community, we’re divided. He’s acknowledging the divide between himself and Drake, essentially saying, “They are NOT LIKE US.” But even as he says this, he stands in the middle. As he moves between different groups of dancers, each with their own style and wearing the colors of the American flag, he’s showing our differences. But then, when all those performers come together, he’s showing what’s possible—that, despite our differences, we can still be united. Diversity, or difference, is part of American culture. E pluribus unum—Out of many, one! Sadly, that united flag only lasts for a moment before division creeps back in. But Kendrick remains in the middle. Maybe it’s okay for people to be “NOT LIKE US,” as long as we’re not being forced to hide who we are…as long as we’re not hurting others, like Drake, racists, White supremacists, misogynists, and others do.
5. The Power of Influence. At the outset, Kendrick declares that this is about something bigger than just the music. He speaks on reparations, urging us to honor our ancestors. The promise of reparations was broken, and ironically, it was actually given to the former oppressors. But from those ashes, Kendrick has emerged to claim this moment and this stage. No political agenda can stifle his voice. His influence—and OUR collective influence—is more powerful than the GAME (not just the Super Bowl, but the fight against racism and White Supremacy). Kendrick is challenging us not to give up on holding those who are NOT LIKE US accountable for their broken promises, urging us to use our voices on social media to speak truth to power. I love how he emphasizes the power of his influence, flashing a quick smile in acknowledgment that this moment is HIS moment to influence the culture. If he can do it, we can too! He knows this halftime show will reach millions and shift our mindset, especially during these times of despair as we witness this administration’s actions. Kendrick is reminding us that our voices still hold power, and if we raise them together, perhaps we can stitch together a flag of unity and connect with those who might not share our experiences…or who are NOT LIKE US.

Those are just a few of my thoughts on some key themes in Kendrick Lamar’s Super Bowl performance. It really moved me, especially because I’ve been feeling discouraged lately. He reminded me that my voice matters. That my influence has the power to make a difference. And maybe, if we all tap into that power, we can spark a revolution—a revolution so widespread that it won’t need to be televised because we’ll all witness it happening right before our eyes.

(When Kendrick says “This revolution WILL BE televised” he is referencing Gil Scott Heron’s THE REVOLUTION WILL NOT BE TELEVISED, and that is his way of saying he is going to use the television in this moment to get his message across. Then when his message is done, he is telling us to GET UP, TURN OFF THE TV and do the work to bring the change we want to see!)