The Super Bowl is supposed to be America’s night off. A Sunday where the country pauses, if only for a few hours, to set aside political battles and cultural wars. It’s football, commercials, a buffet of chips and wings, and—at halftime—a show so grand it has become as iconic as the game itself. Whitney Houston’s anthem, Prince’s rain-soaked guitar, Beyoncé’s choreography, U2’s tribute after 9/11—moments that stitched sports and culture into one shared experience.

But this year, before the players even take the field, the halftime show is already igniting controversy. The NFL’s choice of Bad Bunny, the Puerto Rican superstar who has dominated global charts with reggaetón and Latin trap, has drawn sharp backlash—not just for his music, but for his politics.

And the loudest voice in that backlash comes from Karoline Leavitt, a rising Republican firebrand and former Trump White House aide, who has accused the league of betraying American culture by elevating an artist she claims has openly disparaged the United States and weaponized his platform for left-wing activism.

“This is not American culture,” Leavitt declared in a blistering statement that instantly ricocheted through cable news and social media feeds. “The Super Bowl is meant to bring this country together, not divide it. By putting Bad Bunny center stage, the NFL has chosen politics over patriotism. It’s a slap in the face to the very fans who built this sport into America’s game.”

Her words have touched off a debate that is now far bigger than one halftime show. At stake is whether America’s biggest sporting event is still a cultural unifier—or whether it has become yet another battlefield in the never-ending political war.

The NFL’s Gamble: Global Beats on an American Stage

From the NFL’s perspective, the decision was obvious. Bad Bunny is one of the biggest stars on the planet. His last tour, “El Último Tour del Mundo,” shattered records with more than four hundred million dollars in ticket sales. His album Un Verano Sin Ti was the first all-Spanish-language record to top the Billboard 200. His fan base stretches from San Juan to Seoul, from TikTok teens to Gen Z activists, with crossover appeal that has broken barriers few Latin artists ever touched.

To league executives, Bad Bunny brings reach, relevance, and ratings. The NFL, forever trying to expand its global footprint, likely saw him as the perfect act to showcase football not just to America, but to the world. Yet this calculation ignored a deeper truth: the Super Bowl is not just entertainment. It is a cultural ritual, one of the last few unifying spectacles left in American life. And when you pick an artist who has explicitly criticized the U.S., who once declared he didn’t even want to tour in the country, and who has consistently aligned himself with progressive causes, you don’t just book a performer—you invite a backlash.

Leavitt was quick to seize on that tension.

“An Insult to the Fans Who Built This Game”

Her criticism zeroed in on Bad Bunny’s history of political activism. The singer has repeatedly condemned U.S. immigration enforcement policies, denouncing ICE detention centers as “concentration camps” in one widely circulated interview. He has supported progressive movements in Puerto Rico, including protests against government corruption and pro-independence factions. He has also taken aim at American capitalism, framing it as exploitative of Latin talent.

To Leavitt, these positions aren’t just politics—they’re anti-American. “Let’s be clear,” she said during a Fox News segment, “the NFL chose a man who has mocked our borders, undermined our sovereignty, and openly said he doesn’t want to perform for American audiences. And they’re going to hand him the most-watched stage in the country? That’s not just tone-deaf—it’s disgraceful.”

Her rhetoric resonated with conservatives who already see the NFL as part of a broader cultural establishment that has caved to progressive activism. Many still bristle at the league’s embrace of Black Lives Matter slogans on helmets, its public messaging on LGBTQ rights, and its past conflicts over the national anthem protests. For these critics, Bad Bunny is simply the latest proof that the NFL has abandoned the fans who actually fill stadiums—working- and middle-class Americans across heartland states—in favor of cosmopolitan branding and global markets.

The NFL’s Defense: Diversity as Strategy

League officials, however, have framed the choice as a reflection of diversity and inclusion. They point to past halftime shows featuring artists like Shakira, Jennifer Lopez, Rihanna, and The Weeknd as proof that the league wants the Super Bowl to showcase a mosaic of global talent. To them, football may be uniquely American, but America itself is not monolithic—it is diverse, polyglot, and increasingly influenced by cultures that transcend its borders.

“This is about reaching the widest audience possible,” one NFL executive told reporters. “Bad Bunny represents a cultural wave that is undeniably part of today’s America. We’re not turning our back on anyone. We’re opening the tent wider.”

That argument has been echoed by media outlets quick to highlight demographic realities. Latinos now make up nearly one-fifth of the U.S. population, and Spanish-language music has become a dominant force on the Billboard charts. From this perspective, Bad Bunny is not foreign to American culture—he is central to it.

But to Leavitt and her supporters, the issue isn’t numbers or market strategy. It’s symbolism. And symbols, in politics and culture, carry far more weight than spreadsheets and trendlines.

When Halftime Became a Battleground

The debate is hardly new. For decades, the Super Bowl halftime show has been a magnet for cultural flashpoints. In 1993, Michael Jackson’s performance transformed the intermission from novelty into global spectacle. In 2004, Janet Jackson’s “wardrobe malfunction” sparked a nationwide moral panic and years of FCC crackdowns. Beyoncé’s 2016 “Formation” show was hailed as a celebration of Black pride by some, denounced as anti-police by others. Four years later, Jennifer Lopez and Shakira drew both praise and outrage with a performance that mixed pole dancing with immigrant rights symbolism.

The lesson is that halftime has long ceased to be apolitical. It has become a stage where broader battles over culture and identity play out under the brightest lights. With Bad Bunny, that pattern is simply repeating—only now in the context of an even more polarized nation.

The Broader Stakes: Sports, Politics, and Identity

The controversy is ultimately about more than music. It is about what we want sports to represent. For much of the twentieth century, stadiums were billed as neutral ground—places where Democrats and Republicans, rich and poor, urban and rural could sit side by side and cheer for the same team. The Super Bowl, in particular, was sold as a shared holiday, a uniquely American pause button.

That vision has fractured. In today’s climate, neutrality is dead. Every choice—a sponsor, a commercial, a performer—carries ideological weight. When the NFL books Bad Bunny, conservatives don’t see a musician. They see an agenda. Progressives, meanwhile, see representation and cultural progress.

Leavitt’s sharp rebuke is therefore not just about Bad Bunny. It is about the perception that the NFL has joined the ranks of corporations and cultural institutions that lean left. In a nation where distrust of institutions runs deep, that perception alone is enough to spark outrage.

Could This Backfire on the NFL?

The league is betting that controversy will not outweigh ratings. The Super Bowl routinely draws more than one hundred million viewers, regardless of halftime drama. Sponsors, too, rarely pull out, given the sheer visibility of the event.

Yet there is risk. If conservative fans begin to see the NFL as hostile to their values, boycotts could intensify. Ratings, already in slow decline over the past decade, could slip further. More dangerously, the league could find itself cast as a political actor rather than a neutral entertainer—a role that erodes trust across the cultural spectrum.

Leavitt, in staking her claim, is betting on precisely that backlash. Already, hashtags like “Boycott the Bowl” and “Stand for America” have begun to circulate in conservative circles. Whether they translate into actual ratings loss remains to be seen.

The Irony of Bad Bunny

There is also irony here. Bad Bunny himself has often resisted being cast as overtly political. While his music sometimes touches on social issues, his global appeal has been built on universal themes of love, heartbreak, and urban life. His political statements—though sharp when made—are not the backbone of his career.

Some of his fans argue that reducing him to a symbol of progressivism misses the point entirely. But in America’s culture wars, nuance is irrelevant. Symbols are everything. And for many, Bad Bunny now symbolizes a shift away from the traditional image of American identity—a shift that Leavitt and others are determined to resist.

Who Owns the Super Bowl?

At its core, the fight over Bad Bunny is not really about one halftime show. It is about who owns America’s cultural rituals. Is the Super Bowl a global showcase meant to reflect diversity, inclusion, and international influence? Or is it a distinctly American tradition that should highlight artists who embody patriotism, unity, and national pride?

Karoline Leavitt’s sharp critique has forced that question into the national spotlight. “This is not American culture,” she said, drawing a line in the sand. Millions agree. Millions disagree. And come Super Bowl Sunday, as Bad Bunny steps under the floodlights, the entire country will be watching—not just to see the performance, but to measure what it means.

In that moment, halftime will not simply be entertainment. It will be a referendum on what kind of culture America wants to claim as its own.