This year’s Super Bowl halftime show brought the kind of cultural moment that doesn’t just entertain but also resonates. Amid the spectacle, Kendrick Lamar took the stage, a masterful storyteller weaving together history, struggle, and Black resilience. And for those of us who work in the movement for reparations, a particular line stood out:
“40 acres and a mule, this is bigger than the music.”
For some, it was just a passing lyric. For others, it was a stark acknowledgment of both a broken promise and an unfinished fight. It was also a testament to the work that has been done to bring these conversations to a stage this grand.
A Debt Still Owed
When Union General William T. Sherman issued Special Field Order No. 15 in 1865, shortly after emancipation, it promised formerly enslaved Black families land—40 acres and a mule, to be exact—a tangible path to economic independence. But as swiftly as the promise was made, it was taken away. What followed was over a century and a half of economic exclusion, from Jim Crow to redlining to the racial wealth gap we see today.
Kendrick’s mention of 40 acres wasn’t just about history, it was a declaration that his very presence on that stage was an act of restoration. To take up space—boldly and unapologetically—on America’s biggest stage, performing for a largely white audience that often consumes Black culture while ignoring Black struggle, is itself a powerful statement. But it also reveals a deeper truth: cultural recognition alone is not repair. Visibility is not reparations.
The Role of Culture in the Reparations Movement
Hip-hop has always been a vehicle for truth-telling, and Kendrick has long used his platform to hold up a mirror to America’s past and present. From To Pimp a Butterfly to Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers, he’s chronicled the weight of systemic oppression while also reminding us of our collective power. His Super Bowl performance reinforced that pop culture can be a megaphone for conversations that policymakers and institutions often try to evade.
But we also have to ask: Who profits from this moment? Who controls the institutions behind the spectacle?
While his performance was an act of defiance, Kendrick frequently performs at venues owned by white billionaires. His music is distributed by labels that allow non-Black executives to profit disproportionately from Black creativity. Many of his fans bob their heads to his lyrics without fully engaging with their meaning.
This performance brings to light the paradox of living within systems that simultaneously exploit Black labor and capitalize on Black expression. It’s a contradiction Kendrick did not shy away from during his performance. At Reparation Generation, we embrace this complexity—we work to unpack our complicity in these systems while actively challenging them. Reparations work demands both introspection and action—understanding the ways we participate in economic and cultural structures while fighting to dismantle them.
From Conversation to Action
Kendrick’s performance underscores that this work isn’t just theoretical—it’s personal and indeed ‘bigger than the music’. Every time we talk about reparations, we’re talking about real families whose economic futures were stolen. We’re talking about the communities that were destabilized, the homes that were never purchased, the businesses that never got the capital they needed.
And that’s why we won’t stop. Whether through direct reparative transfers, advocacy, or partnerships, we are committed to making reparations a reality—not just a lyric in a song, but a movement that transforms lives and institutions.
If Kendrick’s performance made you pause, ask a question or if this conversation has you thinking about how we move forward—then take the next step. Join a house meeting. Make a reparative transfer. Support organizations doing the work.
Let’s move beyond acknowledgment into action. 40 acres and a mule was just one chapter and Kendrick’s performance made it clear: the next one is ours to write.