What is the American Identity?

Ask ten Americans what it means to be American, and you’ll get ten different answers. For some, it’s opportunity, reinvention, or the right to disagree loudly and publicly. For others, it’s something smaller, like 4th of July hot dogs, or gluttonous backyard barbecues. The definition of “American” has never been fixed. It has always been argued over, stretched, challenged, and reimagined. And this year, that argument played out on the biggest stage in the country: the Super Bowl. 

To many immigrants, the Super Bowl is something greater than sports: it represents the American Dream in pads and a helmet—the idea that a kid from nowhere can “make it” on the biggest stage in the country. Across the nation, children dream of strapping on a helmet, running onto the field to the roar of tens of thousands of fans, and using that moment not only to change their own lives but to lift up their families as well. The NFL is filled with players who grew up poor, were first-generation immigrants, and used football as a path to a better life. In that sense, Bad Bunny’s presence fit perfectly. A Puerto Rican artist headlining the most-watched event in the nation is not a rejection of the American identity; it’s the American Dream in motion. 

The so-called “All-American Halftime Show” presented by Turning Point USA, a conservative Christian group, pushed its own interpretation of the American identity that openly challenged what the Super Bowl displayed. Artists like Kid Rock were their way of presenting a narrower vision tied to Christianity, English, and cultural patriotism. For many conservatives, the Super Bowl is a celebration of masculinity, militaristic flyovers, platters with heavy burgers and beer, and flashy capitalism. Therefore, the anger from many didn’t just come from the language choice, but rather the perceived loss of American patriotism and symbolism. The performance garnered over six million live viewers.

That audience is the result of conservative America and the Trump administration’s broader push to solidify their idea of American-ness. Donald Trump campaigned under a strong Christian nationalist identity and openly bashed Muslim communities for being too “radical.” Between 80 and 85 percent of white evangelical Christian voters—who make up 20 percent of the total electorate—voted for Trump in 2024.

Trump doesn’t shy away from using the word “illegal alien” in his speeches. The term has long been embedded in immigration law and carries a profoundly negative connotation. When it is repeated in rallies and campaign speeches, it transforms immigration into an American cultural emergency. The emotional structure of his messages is consistent, and is what Turning Point USA’s show pushed: America is under threat, and its identity is slipping away. 

He has also been utilizing political tools to assert his version of the American identity. The use of enforcement agencies like the US Immigration and Customs Enforcement is daunting, with over 600,000 deportations in 2025 alone. 75 countries have been blacklisted from getting US visas, most of which are African or Asian countries whose people don’t fit into the Trump Administration’s view of the American identity. Trump himself has openly said, “They’re poisoning the blood of our country… They’re coming into our country, from Africa, from Asia, all over the world.” 

In a time when immigration is being portrayed as an invasion, Bad Bunny’s performance was a beacon of hope for those being targeted by the government. By flying the Puerto Rican flag alongside the American flag and the flags of countries across Latin America, he displayed the layered identities that exist within the United States. Puerto Ricans are US citizens, and millions of Latin American immigrants contribute to the country’s economy and rich culture, yet political rhetoric increasingly frames them as outsiders. Conservatives struggled to accept the fact that Bad Bunny is as American as someone like Kid Rock, both culturally and politically. Although they represent very different aspects of the American identity, they both exist within the same national framework. The argument shouldn’t be who is more American, but rather how we can allow for multiple identities to better coexist within our country, and dispel an “us versus them” mentality. 

It would be naive to dismiss these cultural fears as simply prejudice. This anxiety is developing as a result of economic and social instability. Over the past two decades, minority communities in America have been victims of deindustrialization, wage stagnation, and job displacement due to automation and globalization. For example, US manufacturing employment fell from 17.3 million jobs in 2000 to 12 million jobs in 2015, with many of those losses concentrated in industrial and rural communities. At the same time, the country is becoming more racially, ethnically, and religiously diverse, meaning that by 2045, there will be a majority-minority status in the country, with no racial group being over 50 percent of the population. Many Americans see the loss of jobs as a result of increased immigration, and therefore blame many economic struggles on the immigrants themselves. For those who grew up in rural communities, these changes can make it seem like something foundational to America is disappearing. The Trump administration has been able to capitalize on these sentiments with its promises for “America first” directives, like increased internal industrialization, which aims to create jobs in manufacturing. 

Immigrants and diversity have turned this country into what it is today: a global multicultural superpower. From the Irish who built canals and industry in the 19th century, to Chinese laborers who laid the tracks of the transcontinental railroad, to Jewish immigrants who shaped American science and business, each wave of immigrants has helped to reshape the country’s economy and identity. 

But behind every immigrant’s success story lie countless tales of discrimination and xenophobia. The Irish immigrants in the 1800s were terribly treated due to their Catholic faith and foreign culture. They were stereotyped as drunkards, beggars, and criminals, and wouldn’t get hired because, despite their light skin, they were not considered white. The backlash against Bad Bunny and his performance is yet another example of the continuation of America’s targeted reprisals and cultural apprehension. 

The danger arises when we start using cultural markers instead of civic principles in a test of seeing who belongs. A response must focus on expanding opportunity by investing in job training, strengthening labor protections, supporting small businesses, and ensuring access to affordable healthcare and education for all. Expanding access to diversity and cross-cultural education through local government legislation, like in rural and more culturally homogenous communities, is equally important, as isolation often breeds suspicion due to a lack of exposure and difficulty accepting other traditions. Lawmakers must expand workforce retraining programs in regions hit hardest by automation and outsourcing, making economic security less vulnerable to demographic panic. 

In the words of Barack Obama, “part of America’s genius has always been its ability to absorb newcomers, to forge a national identity out of the disparate lot that arrived on our shores.” Bad Bunny showed the nation that there has never been a need to craft a standard identity for us Americans. The food at a Super Bowl party alone—tacos, wings, pizza, noodles—tells a rich multicultural story. Diversity is our strength. America is where you go to become an American; if you want to, the doors should be open to you.