My son, who shares my Black Nigerian ancestry, is also Dominican and Puerto Rican. I am not. As a single mother by choice, I feel a deep responsibility to intentionally educate him, provide access, and immerse him in the cultural power that already lives within him.
Like many parents raising children of color, I wrestle with when — and how — to begin conversations about how he will experience the world differently from his white peers as an Afro-Latino boy. At the same time, I want him to know that the love, joy, and richness of his Dominican and Puerto Rican heritage are just as meaningful and life-giving as the ancestry he shares with me.
Benito Bowl — also known as Super Bowl LX — reinforced for me that nurturing curiosity and creating access to cultural celebration, not only to histories of pain and harm, is an essential part of my work as a mother. That night affirmed that I was doing something right.
A dear friend, who is also my son’s godmother, hosted a Super Bowl halftime show gathering. As devoted Bad Bunny fans, we stepped outside our routine and traveled from Harlem to Queens, fully aware that bedtime would be missed — a small but revolutionary act on a Sunday night. My son chose his own outfit: overalls adorned with bunnies and a Puerto Rican flag tied to the straps. Though the outfit didn’t stay on long, his pride and confidence were unmistakable. For the first time, I watched him use fashion as a language of self-expression.
When we arrived, Puerto Rican flags filled the room. The host herself is not Puerto Rican, yet the evening was intentionally dedicated to music, culture, and celebration — and she honored it fully. Guests waved flags of countries not their own, unified by the music and cultural legacy of the performer we had gathered to celebrate. The joy in the room was collective and expansive.
Then came the food. As a potluck, the table overflowed with dishes from Peru, Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic, Mexico, Cuba, and Thailand. Even when someone contributed a dish outside their own cultural background, it came with a story — an act of respect and connection. We ate together, celebrated together, and after the performance, talked with our children about the historical and cultural significance of Bad Bunny’s aesthetic choices.
In a moment when the world feels increasingly fractured and bleak, the night offered something rare and necessary: unfiltered joy.
In a moment when the world feels increasingly fractured and bleak, the night offered something rare and necessary: unfiltered joy. There was movement, laughter, cultural affirmation, and the profound experience of watching my three-year-old be embraced — by people he knew and by strangers alike — simply for existing. By the end of the night, he had gained an entire new circle of “aunties” and “cousins.”
As Eboo Patel has written about interfaith and intercultural work, “A simple potluck dinner can be more revolutionary than a thousand lectures on diversity. Sharing food, stories, and laughter teaches us to honor differences while discovering how deeply we are connected.” That Sunday night, the potluck, the performer, and the community became living examples of pluralism in action.
Rabbi Jonah Pesner, Director of the Religious Action Center, reminds us, “In times like these, celebrating our diversity isn’t optional — it is essential. Our differences, when honored, become the strength that allows communities to hold together through crisis.”
As Bad Bunny reminded us, echoing Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., the only thing more powerful than hate is love.
This is the power of pluralism. Too often, we turn to it only in moments of tension or conflict. Sunday night, pluralism became a pathway to joy. It taught our children that their heritage — and the diversity contained within it — is not merely something to navigate, but something to celebrate. It is a reason to gather, to thrive, and to love more deeply. As Bad Bunny reminded us, echoing Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., the only thing more powerful than hate is love.
Melissa Carter
Melissa Carter, EdD, is Director of Student Life at Interfaith America, where she leads national efforts to advance student leadership and institutional change in higher education at a pivotal moment for pluralistic democracy. She sets the strategic vision for engaging college students and campus professionals, elevating student leadership as a driver of cultural and institutional pluralism within and beyond the academy.
