By now, a small library’s worth of essays has been written about this year’s halftime show. I am late to the matter, admittedly—but as a European living and working in the United States, I suspect the view from slightly outside the room may still be worth offering. Watching the halftime show from the stands or on television felt like observing a private party next door to which one had not been invited. The Super Bowl has long served as one of America’s few remaining civic rituals—an evening when citizens from different political and cultural universes still watch the same game, the same advertisements, and the same halftime stage. This year, this common ground visibly narrowed.

The sense of contraction carried broader significance because Bad Bunny, a Puerto Rican artist, has now become the subject of university courses across the United States. San Diego State University, Loyola Marymount University, Yale, and Wellesley College have incorporated his work into curricula that explore Puerto Rican history, colonialism, race, gender identity, diaspora politics, and media power. In these academic settings, his music serves broader social and political frameworks that extend beyond artistic analysis or musical contribution.

In this environment, the National Football League (NFL) entrusted its largest stage to Bad Bunny, transforming the halftime show into a public demonstration of what that symbol communicates beyond the classroom. The selection aimed, in part, to expand American football’s appeal among Spanish-speaking audiences. (The NFL has leaned heavily into “diversity, equity, and inclusion” initiatives in recent years, including more visible celebrations of “Latino excellence” under its “Por La Cultura” campaign.) A platform of that magnitude carries diplomatic potential: it offers an opportunity to bring viewers together across cultural and linguistic lines. Yet, even before the performance, Bad Bunny stated that he would perform exclusively in Spanish, framing his selection as an achievement for “all Latinos and Latinas who have worked to open doors in the United States.” He then switched to English and remarked to viewers who did not understand him that “they had four months to learn Spanish.” The issue, however, is not Spanish itself.

If the source of backlash was not language or cultural visibility, then what unsettled so many viewers? The answer lies in three interconnected dimensions: accessibility, the claim to cultural representation, and the performance’s political and sexual tone.

On the first point, Bad Bunny assured audiences that performing exclusively in Spanish would not create rupture because music travels across borders without translation. This reasoning may generally hold for melody-driven genres. For example, salsa, bolero, bachata, and reggaetón can convey emotions and moods through their instruments and rhythms. One can feel the meaning even without understanding the lyrics. However, rap is built primarily on spoken words. Bunny’s lyrics are deeply political and sexual, and without understanding the text, much of their meaning is lost. This leaves the audience feeling excluded or left behind, or even offended if the content later turns out to conflict with their values. Such an outcome runs counter to the unifying purpose that performing arts and sports are meant to serve.

On the second point, Bad Bunny implicitly claimed that his Spanish-language rap serves as a comprehensive vehicle of Latin representation. Language is undeniably central to identity, yet it does not, by itself, define the totality of culture. Latin music encompasses a vast spectrum of traditions shaped by regional histories, migration patterns, and intergenerational influence. Reducing it to a single sound, mood, or market trend would be a mistake. Several world-famous Latin artists—including Shakira, Jennifer Lopez, Julio Iglesias, Gloria Estefan, Ricky Martin, Karol G, and Enrique Iglesias—have built careers on bilingual and cross-cultural performance, demonstrating its expansive reach and the reciprocal influence between American pop culture and Latin traditions. Against that broader landscape, the Spanish rap offered by Bad Bunny represents one stylistic current.

On the third point, the substance of the performance itself—its political tone and explicit sexual content—raises questions about appropriateness in a cross-generational civic setting. Bad Bunny intended to be seen as a “self-proclaimed attaché” representing Latino communities, yet the lifestyle and values embedded in his highly sexual and often vulgar lyrics do not reflect majority patterns within those communities. By positioning himself as a cultural voice on the Super Bowl stage, he alienated many within his own “Latin” audiences. Data shows that roughly two-thirds of Hispanic adults in the United States identify as Christian, and majorities continue to express support for marriage. Latino communities are diverse, but family-centered and socially monogamous frameworks remain common. Against that backdrop, his opening song “Tití Me Preguntó” (Auntie Asked Me) signaled a different set of values: the lyrics boast of rotating girlfriends daily, list women from different countries as interchangeable options, and dismiss marriage altogether. Women appear as objectified experiences rather than individuals with dignity or agency. The inclusion of “Safaera” (Promiscuity), a track defined by explicit references to casual sexual encounters and hedonistic images, further reinforced a narrative centered on erotic display. That narrative does not mirror the dominant value structure within Latino communities or within American society more broadly.

Therefore, the central problem with Bad Bunny’s performance is the perception that the show was calibrated toward confrontation rather than cohesion. Artists have long used the halftime platform to express political viewpoints through symbolism, staging, and song selection. In 2020, amid intense national debate over immigration policy, two Latinas, Jennifer Lopez and Shakira, delivered a halftime performance that included imagery referencing children in detention while performing “Let’s Get Loud.” Lopez, a compatriot of Bad Bunny, displayed both the Puerto Rican and American flags during the show, as she often does, yet without framing cultural identity as opposition. The performance moved fluidly between Spanish and English and concluded with Bruce Springsteen’s iconic “Born in the U.S.A.,” sung collectively in a manner that emphasized unity rather than division. The message was that Latin cultural pride and American identity were not mutually exclusive but reinforcing.

The example shows that raising cultural or political themes on stage is one matter; designing a performance that leaves a substantial portion of the audience feeling excluded, dismissed, or insulted is another. The Super Bowl is a cross-generational civic broadcast watched by families and children across the country and beyond. Its symbolic function lies in its capacity to bring people together. The reaction in 2026 suggests that this integrative function weakened. Millions switched channels during halftime, and others sought alternative programming altogether. Turning Point USA (TPUSA) attempted to capitalize on the moment with a counter-broadcast built around country and rock. Yet TPUSA offered no meaningful alternative. By branding a narrow lineup as “All American,” it merely reinforced the same logic of cultural reduction it purported to resist.

For the NFL, the lesson may be less about individual artists and more about institutional calibration and civic responsibility. If the halftime show becomes another arena of polarization, the event risks losing what makes it unique, namely, its capacity to convene a fragmented nation around something shared. Universities exercise a related form of stewardship. When academic programs elevate a contemporary figure into a framework for interpreting history, national identity, and political actions, they transform an entertainer into a cultural symbol. Interpreting the present is very burdensome; that is why universities used to evaluate events and figures in a historical distance that allows for perspective.

The 2026 halftime show demonstrated how sharply contested a contemporary cultural figure can become once elevated from classroom interpretation to a national stage.