Latino Artists Who Performed at the Super Bowl Halftime Show
Bad Bunny headlining Super Bowl. LX. and the conversation around him reveals why Latino representation in American culture still matters.
In the early hours of January 3, 2026, explosions woke residents across Caracas and nearby states, plunging Venezuela into uncertainty. As official media stayed silent, citizens turned to WhatsApp and social platforms. Through firsthand accounts, this story captures the fear that followed.
Editor’s Note: Due to current conditions in Venezuela and for the safety of the journalist reporting this story, the author’s name has been withheld.
In the early hours of January 3, 2026, Venezuela experienced an event that paralyzed much of the population. Around 2:00 a.m., a strange, loud, and jarring sound woke residents in Caracas and areas of La Guaira, Miranda, and Aragua. At first, there was no certainty about its origin: it was neither an earthquake nor an electrical storm. Witnesses reported that explosions/strikes hit specific locations.
While official national media did not immediately report on the incident, according to monitoring of state-run broadcasts and websites at the time, social media became the main source of information, with Venezuelan citizens narrating what happened and sharing videos and images of the impacted areas, creating spontaneous and direct communication among neighbors and family members.
Andrea Pérez, a pseudonym used for safety reasons, was in Catia, Caracas, when the event occurred. In an interview, she recounted how the news spread rapidly among her contacts: “I posted a status on WhatsApp asking who had heard those sounds. That’s when a coworker, who lives in Fuerte Tiuna, sent me a very distressed audio saying: ‘The Americans are here, we need to evacuate.’”

Pérez said the message filled her with fear and uncertainty: “I didn’t know what to do. I put on clothes to go out and packed a bag because I didn’t know what was going to happen.”
Another testimony comes from Pedro Suárez, a pseudonym, who was traveling by bus from Cumaná to Caracas, a distance of approximately 540 kilometers (335 miles) when the intervention took place. “We stopped in El Guapo, in Miranda state, and stayed there for several hours because we were not allowed to continue. I called my family and they informed me of what was happening. I was scared and wanted to be with them. I got home around 11 a.m. after facing multiple complications along the way.”
That day marked a turning point in Venezuela’s recent history. According to statements from U.S. officials and President Donald Trump, the operation referred to as ‘Operation Absolute Resolution’ resulted in the capture and extraction of President Nicolás Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores.
For one segment of the population, the operation represented the arrest of a dictator accused of narco-terrorism; for others, it amounted to the kidnapping of a legitimate president.
Around 3:30 a.m., with the goal of safeguarding the integrity of the country’s states and municipalities, the Venezuelan government began a nationwide radio broadcast, according to recordings aired on state-run media, describing the events as an ‘imperialist aggression’, the ordering of immediate deployment of the Comprehensive Defense Command of the Nation, according to official government statements.
The government also called on the peoples and governments of Latin America, the Caribbean, and the rest of the world to mobilize in “emotional solidarity,” urging citizens to remain connected through popular communication channels and to defend Venezuelan territory.
As multiple journalists in Caracas reported that morning…Venezuela woke up on January 4 surrounded by uncertainty and fear. Many citizens did not sleep, and the calm on the streets felt unsettling. Juana López, 33, a pseudonym used out of fear of reprisals who lives near the Generalísimo Francisco de Miranda air baseone of the facilities damaged during the military operation said she was unable to sleep during the first three days after the attack:
“These past nights I’ve slept in clothes ready to go out, constantly on alert, and I wake up at the slightest noise. I can’t understand how people continue with their daily lives as if nothing had happened.”
López added that she felt anxious even while at work as night approached:
“I was at work, and when it hit 6 p.m. I started to panic because it was getting dark. I asked the site manager to please let me leave. I was so distressed that they took my motorcycle keys away because I wasn’t in a condition to drive.”
Many Venezuelans, both inside and outside the country, voiced their support for the operation on social media, expressing hope that the situation would lead to a free and renewed Venezuela. They viewed the capture of Nicolás Maduro by U.S. forces as “the only option” to end decades of political and economic repression.
However, other observers argue that the episode has a far more complex backdrop, involving geopolitical and economic interests that could affect the country’s integrity and sovereignty. An educator interviewed, who previously worked on a program broadcast by the state-run channel VTV, said:
“I don’t understand how people can celebrate this inhumane act. They comment without context and thank a violent action that has only attacked national sovereignty in order to extract what is ours.”
Among those interviewed, the phrase “Venezuelans are not a people of war” came up repeatedly. For some, what happened represents a dehumanizing act, with unconfirmed reports of casualties and collateral damage that still weigh heavily on the collective memory. Others recall the protests of 2016 and 2017, when opposition demonstrations ended in clashes with security forces, resulting in the deaths of civilians and young people, events that left a deep mark of fear and distrust.
Another reason many Venezuelans have avoided taking to the streets to celebrate Maduro’s capture is the memory of past experiences. Between 2013 and 2018, Venezuela endured a prolonged political, social, and economic crisis during which protesters were accused of “terrorism,” detained without due process, and subjected to violence by security forces.
Following the presidential elections of July 28, 2024, a new wave of repression unfolded, marked by arbitrary arrests, intimidation, and judicial proceedings against those who participated in protests or voiced criticism of the government on social media. Human rights organization Human Watch documented that more than 2,000 people were detained during this period, many without access to private legal counsel or basic judicial guarantees.
Attorney Ezequiel Monsalve, who represented several detainees, stated:
“The judiciary in Venezuela is not independent and does not serve citizens. After the elections, protocols were activated to assist those who were unjustly detained, but many people remain imprisoned, and the legal processes are complex.”
Among the most notable cases is that of Genesis Gabriela Pabón Paredes and Rocío Del Mar Rodríguez Guillén, their sentencing drew international attention; relatives and advocates have disputed the charges and detention conditions. Paredes and Guillén who were charged with incitement to hatred and treason after printing T-shirts depicting the toppling of statues of former President Hugo Chávez. The two women worked at a screen-printing shop and were contacted repeatedly by alleged clients. When they went to deliver the order, officers from the Bolivarian National Police (PNB) confiscated the shirts and detained them. Although their conviction was annulled on January 8, they remain imprisoned without charges or evidence.
In a separate case, on January 5, 2026, fifteen teenagers were detained in the city of Barcelona, Anzoátegui while celebrating Carnival, along with eight adults, on allegations of “terrorist acts.” They were transferred to the Polibolívar Preventive Detention Center and, during a remote court hearing, were ordered held without access to private legal defense. Their families insist that all of them are local athletes and are collecting signatures to attest to their good conduct.
President Trump announced that the U.S. administration Trump would oversee/secure Venezuela’s oil exports and revenues during the transition and export of Venezuelan crude oil, inviting companies such as Chevron, Shell, and Repsol to invest in the country’s deteriorated infrastructure. On January 6, he stated that Venezuela would supply between 30 and 50 million barrels of oil to the United States, with the revenues earmarked for programs that would supposedly benefit both the Venezuelan population and the U.S. itself.
In December 2025, Venezuelan oil expert Francisco Monaldi of Rice University in Houston noted that of the approximately 850,000 barrels of oil Venezuela was producing per day, about 80% was destined for China, between 15% and 17% for the United States, and the remainder for Cuba. These volumes represented a significant share of exports at the time, though still far below historical levels. In 1998, before Hugo Chávez came to power, the country produced around 3.12 million barrels per day, when Venezuela’s oil industry was the world’s leading exporter and a central engine of the national economy.
Although Trump’s announcement surprised many, it also raised the question of what oil has truly meant for the Venezuelan population in recent years. While oil has long been considered a symbol of national pride and sovereignty, despite holding some of the largest oil reserves in the world, citizens do not directly experience the benefits of this resource.
According to the Center for Documentation and Social Analysis of the Venezuelan Federation of Teachers (CENDAS-FVM) most Venezuelans face high food and service prices, chronic shortages in basic services such as electricity and water, long lines to obtain gasoline, and pensions and minimum wages that range between roughly $50 and $170 per month, as of December 2025, the basic food basket for a family of four exceeds $400, reflecting persistent inflation and currency instability despite partial dollarization. This paradox highlights how oil wealth has not translated into citizen well-being, showing that simply having oil does not guarantee quality of life or access to basic services.
Reported by state media, interim president Delcy Rodríguez announced that oil revenues would be allocated to the recovery and restructuring of the health care system, including the modernization of at least 75 health centers and the expansion of primary care programs. She also acknowledged the country’s electricity problems and said measures would be implemented to restore and strengthen the power grid, which has been severely affected by years of underinvestment and poor maintenance.
Héctor Gómez, interviewed anonymously, summed up the feeling shared by many Venezuelans:
“All we can do is depend on God, because we don’t know what will happen to our future.”
Most workers who had been on holiday returned to their jobs in Caracas on January 12, resuming a sense of apparent normalcy living day by day, with expectations of an uncertain but hopeful future in terms of restoring basic services and achieving economic stability.
Data Note: Economic figures cited reflect the most recent data available as of December 2025. Due to limited transparency from state institutions, independent research organizations such as OVF, CENDAS-FVM, and ENCOVI are widely used by journalists and international bodies to assess Venezuela’s economic conditions.
Empowering You With Essential News & Latina Stories Beyond The Usual. We Are Bold. Courageous. Fearless. Global. Truthful In Our Journalism.
No spam. Unsubscribe anytime.
Bad Bunny headlining Super Bowl. LX. and the conversation around him reveals why Latino representation in American culture still matters.
As Indigenous migrants from Mexico and Central America build lives in the U.S., demand for Mayan language interpretation is rising. When systems assume all Latinos speak Spanish, people fall through the cracks. Here’s what’s changing and why it matters.
While global leaders debate policy, Latina scientists are building solutions now—rooted in community needs and environmental reality. From nopal-based bioplastics to shrimp-shell filtration and smart agriculture sensors, these innovators show what climate progress looks like on the ground.
“I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future.” - Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol The holiday season is upon us! If we had to choose the quintessential Christmas story, our minds might
Get weekly inspiration for living well delivered straight to your inbox.