What happens to the first amendment when the only up-to-date information we have access to is controlled by someone (or something) with unknown ulterior motives? In a world of algorithms, clickbait, rage bait, we (fortunately) still have access to art and it is (mostly) “un-regulated” compared to other societal institutions, allowing some modicum of free speech. But what happens when art can only be distributed to the masses on algorithmized platforms?
The perfect example of this is Kendrick Lamar’s Superbowl LIX Apple Music Haltime Performance. The stadium lights pulse like a heartbeat, the crowd roars in anticipation, and suddenly, Lamar’s onstage—surrounded by dancers, each one moving in visual representations of defiance and hope. He’s not just performing; he’s saying something. He’s telling a story we might not want to hear but absolutely need to. It’s a story that’s not afraid to tackle uncomfortable truths about race, censorship, inequality, and power. And he tells this story in a way that’s ridden with symbolism - Samuel L. Jackson narrating the show as Uncle Sam, Serena Williams crip walking, the stage set up like a video game controller, the all-black crew of dancers wearing red, white, and blue, and the backs of the the black dancers forming the American flag.
We live in a world where the idea of free speech is hotly debated, where the very act of speaking out can lead to consequences. What happened to the days when we could just say what was on our minds? When did it become easier to censor than to listen? But then—there’s Kendrick Lamar, standing live before millions of people, using his platform not just to entertain, but to provoke, to challenge, to push us to think beyond the surface. Isn’t that the essence of what free speech should be? Is art the only place left where we can truly express ourselves without the fear of retribution, without the rules of decorum? Perhaps it is. It’s the one place where words don’t just mean something—they do something. They move us. They change us.
In a world where every word we say seems to be scrutinized, manipulated, or censored, Kendrick Lamar’s performance is a rare, unapologetic act of defiance. He doesn’t just use his voice—he uses his body, his stage, his entire being to stand against the system. As his symbolic lyrics, with a million layers of political commentary hidden beneath the verses, echo through the speakers, one thought strikes me: What if art is the only true form of free speech left?
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