In this op-ed, writer Crystal Bell reflects on the numerous anti-ICE sentiments from celebrities including Bad Bunny, Kehlani, Billie Eilish, and more at the 2026 Grammys.
Two parallel timelines played out across social media this weekend. The 2026 Grammys arrived in Los Angeles wrapped in spectacle: star-studded red carpets, glitzy industry parties, and viral performances flooded social media all week long. But these events unfolded alongside a wave of protests against US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) that stretched far beyond the awards bubble.
In the days leading up to the Grammy Awards, demonstrators gathered in cities across the country, including LA, to protest the Trump administration's intensified immigration enforcement, deportations, and use of federal agents in American cities. Protests started as a response to the deployment of Operation Metro Surge, specific to the Twin Cities and now expanding across Minnesota, and escalated quickly after the killings of 37-year-old poet and writer Renee Good and 37-year-old ICU nurse Alex Pretti. Video of Pretti's killing, widely shared online, appeared to contradict initial official claims about the circumstances of the shooting, fueling outrage and demands for government accountability.
The timeline shift from this to a glamorous awards show like the Grammys is understandably jarring and can often feel separated from the very serious reality going on outside the arena. But in many ways, art (and, by extension, the celebration of it) is a way to express and make sense of that tension.
Independent journalist Don Lemon, days after being taken into custody by federal agents and indicted on federal charges related to his coverage of an anti-ICE protest that disrupted a service at a Minnesota church last month, walked the Grammys red carpet. He was arrested on Friday for his connection with the church protest, and released on a personal recognizance bond the same day, appearing outside a downtown federal courthouse several minutes later. A federal judge set conditions on his release, such as avoiding contact with known victims or witnesses and requiring court permission for international travel. Lemon remains under federal indictment and is expected to appear in court again; his next scheduled court date is February 9, in Minnesota, when he plans to plead not guilty.
During the ceremony’s opening monologue, host Trevor Noah declared, "Tonight there's no anxiety, only good vibes," nodding to Doechii's Grammy-nominated "Anxiety." It played as a punchline, but the joke doubled as wishful thinking, a reminder of how awards shows still try to manufacture optimism even when the country is anything but calm. He said this just moments after roasting President Trump's self-described "number one fan," Nicki Minaj, to thunderous applause.
For some artists, the disconnect between celebration and crisis was impossible to ignore.
Bad Bunny, accepting the Grammy for Best Música Urbana Album, began with a blunt, unmistakable message: "ICE out." He then expanded on that with a call for empathy and solidarity. "We are not savage. We are not animals. We are not aliens. We are humans. And we are Americans," said the artist, who is Puerto Rican. (A few minutes earlier, Bad Bunny did a bit with Noah when he reminded him, “I have some news for you: Puerto Rico is part of America.”)
Reflecting on the spread of hostility, Bad Bunny added, people sometimes become "contaminados"—contaminated—by hate. "The only thing more powerful than hate is love," he said. "If we fight, we have to do it with love. We don't hate them. We love our people. We love our family. And that's the way to do it, with love."
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Song of the Year winner Billie Eilish said "F*ck ICE" at the end of her acceptance speech—a moment quickly censored on the CBS broadcast. "I don't feel like I need to say anything, but no one is illegal on stolen land," she commented. "It's just really hard to know what to say and what to do right now. I feel really hopeful in this room. And I feel like we need to keep fighting, speaking up, and protesting. Our voices really do matter, and people matter."
During Kehlani’s acceptance speech for Best R&B Performance for "Folded," which aired during the Grammys pre-show, she framed her win as an opportunity for collective action. Addressing the room and viewers at home, she emphasized the power of artists to move in unison rather than in isolation. "Everybody in this room, and everyone who will be in this room later, is so powerful," she said. "Together, we're stronger in numbers to speak out against all the injustice going on in the world right now.” She closed her remarks with a blunt call to action: "I'm going to leave it at that and say, f*ck ICE."
Country star Shaboozey echoed similar themes while accepting Best Country Duo/Group Performance alongside Jelly Roll for their single "Amen." In his pre-show speech, Shaboozey centered immigrants as foundational to the country's history and future. "Immigrants built this country, literally," he said. "So this is for them. For all children of immigrants, and for those who came to this country in search of a better opportunity."
Best New Artist winner Olivia Dean's acceptance speech emphasized how deeply immigration is woven into personal and artistic success. "I’m up here as the granddaughter of an immigrant," the British singer-songwriter said. "I wouldn’t be here— I'm a product of bravery, and I think those people deserve to be celebrated. We’re nothing without each other."
Others used the Grammys red carpet itself as a platform for solidarity. Several artists—including Billie Eilish, Justin and Hailey Bieber, Bon Iver, Joni Mitchell, Jack Antonoff, songwriter Amy Allen, Kehlani, and Brandi Carlile—were spotted wearing "ICE OUT" pins, a tangible symbol of opposition in solidarity with protesters.
Jazz singer Samara Joy, also donning a pin, told Variety that she wants her presence to be an act of recognition rather than self-promotion. "I want to stand up," she said. "I don't want to draw attention to myself all the time without recognizing the humanity between myself and all the people around the world who are experiencing such tragedies."
Meanwhile, Antonoff struggled to find the right words when asked on the red carpet why wearing the pin mattered to him. "It's terrible," he said simply, before trailing off. When the Variety reporter offered, "It's hard to talk about anything else at this point," Antonoff nodded. "We can do both,” he replied. "And find a way to…I don't know. It's just a really good time for people to come together and figure out how to move through this, because it's only going to be small communities that can really help."
That uncertainty, the pauses and half-finished thoughts, felt as telling as any polished speech. Speaking out in moments of crisis is rarely easy; but for artists with global platforms, silence carries its own weight. Visibility is power, and choosing how to use it is part of the job. In a media environment where outrage and solidarity move at the same speed, speaking out is no longer the endpoint. It is the starting line. The question is not whether artists should use their platforms, but how responsibly and consistently they choose to do so.
Moments of protest and political reflection have long punctuated Grammy history, even as artists have often let the music do the talking onstage. In 2015, the late Prince used his Album of the Year presentation to nod directly to the Black Lives Matter movement, declaring, "Albums still matter, like books and Black lives, albums still matter." Two years later, during A Tribe Called Quest's incendiary performance, Busta Rhymes openly criticized President Trump, condemning his xenophobic rhetoric and policies from the stage and referring to him as "President Agent Orange."
Immigration has also emerged as a recurring focal point. In 2018, Camila Cabello delivered an emotional tribute to Dreamers, undocumented immigrants brought to the United States as children, while introducing U2. Sharing her family’s journey as Cuban Mexican immigrants, she said, "I'm here on this stage tonight because, just like the Dreamers, my parents brought me to this country with nothing in their pockets but hope… All I know is that just like dreams, these kids can’t be forgotten and are worth fighting for."
The #MeToo and #TimesUp movements similarly reshaped the ceremony’s tone in the late 2010s. In 2018, Janelle Monáe introduced Kesha’s powerful performance of "Praying" with a forceful speech on workplace equity and abuse, calling on the industry to commit to safer, fairer environments for women. "To those who would dare try and silence us, we offer you two words: Time's up," Monae said. "We say time's up for pay inequality, discrimination, or harassment of any kind, and the abuse of power."
Other artists have used their wins to spotlight mental health, representation, and cultural visibility. In 2019, Lady Gaga spoke candidly about mental health after winning for "Shallow," urging audiences to care for one another. Two years earlier, Beyoncé framed her Lemonade win for Best Urban Contemporary Album as a statement on Black history and visibility, emphasizing the importance of children seeing themselves reflected in media. That same year, Jennifer Lopez invoked Toni Morrison while presenting the Grammy for Best New Artist, reminding her peers that moments of political uncertainty are precisely when artists must speak out. "At this particular point in history, our voices are needed more than ever," she said.
The Grammys have never functioned as an escape from politics. Music has always carried the weight of history, identity, and power. What has changed is how impossible it has become to maintain the illusion of separation. In 2026, viral performances and protest footage circulate side by side, flattening the distance between spectacle and struggle. In that context, speaking out isn’t a disruption of the ceremony; it's an acknowledgment of reality.
This story has been updated.
