When Common Sense Rules Become Cultural Battlegrounds

The backlash over Carnival's new code of conduct exposes the danger of identity-based thinking and lowered expecations

Last month, Carnival Cruise Line quietly introduced new guidelines for passengers in keeping with the company’s “values” of “care and respect for others” in shared spaces. It’s not clear whether the company expected to ignite a firestorm with its new policy, but that’s exactly what it got. Almost immediately, social media lit up with heated comments.

Some passengers announced that they were cancelling their existing reservations and bookings — or cancelling the cruise line all together. Others felt the new rules meant that Carnival was obviously “tryna never have nobody on their cruise thats a prison not a vacation.” Still others were more forthright with their objections, declaring that "If We Can't Act Ratchet, I Don't Want To Go On Carnival Cruises” (in case you’re unfamiliar with the term, Urban Dictionary defines “ratchet” as a “a ghetto girl who is loud and obnoxious and constantly causing drama and usually trashy”).

Yet most striking wasn’t the nature of the comments, but who was making them. The vast majority of people objecting to the cruise line’s new code of conduct were Black. The controversy therefore hinged on a single question: “Are Carnival’s new policies racist?”

While Carnival spokespersons claimed the company was merely renewing its “commitment to safety and respectful behavior” onboard its ships, it’s pretty clear the cruise line was actually responding to a well-known and well-documented problem. In April 2025, 24 passengers were banned and placed on a “do not sail list” after a massive brawl erupted in the Galveston terminal. In June 2024, another viral video captured women throwing chairs and punches in the dining room at 3 a.m. In June 2022, a massive fight involving 40-60 passengers required Coast Guard intervention. According to Cruise Law News, “the vast majority of these brawls occur on Carnival ships.”

So, what’s the draconian new code of conduct that’s triggered such outrage?

• Zero tolerance for use of marijuana (legal in some states, but still prohibited under federal law) and other illegal substances

• No unaccompanied minors in public areas after 1 a.m.

• No running or making noise in guest corridors

• Mandatory use of earphones when listening to music or watching shows/movies in public spaces.

Incredibly, the policy that generated the most shock and awe was Carnival’s ban on the use of handheld fans “in the nightclub or any indoor dance floor.” For context, use of non-battery operated fans became popular in the Black community after 803Fresh’s line dance Boots on the Ground: Where Them Fans At?” went viral. Participants use these devices to rhythmically “clack” during specific parts of the song (videos on TikTok show hundreds of passengers in line dances on cruise ship decks, snapping their fans with “clacking” sounds). Carnival claims the noise isn’t just disruptive in shared spaces, but also poses a safety hazard (according to one likely apocryphal report, a bystander was hit by a fan and required stitches).

Yet as with most controversies, it’s always important to step back and look at the bigger picture so we can understand what’s really happening — and why.

Ultimately, the controversy surrounding Carnival’s policies can’t be understood without acknowledging the class dynamics at play. In recent years the company has become a magnet for cruise-seekers largely due to deep discounts it’s offered. In 2015, the average cost per passenger was around $168 per night. In 2025, however, the average cost has plummeted to as low as $50 per passenger per night.

Historically, higher-priced cruises have maintained stricter behavioral expectations by catering to customers who expect a certain atmosphere. But when Carnival decided to slash its prices post-pandemic, it attracted a wave of budget-conscious travelers — many of whom were first-time passengers unfamiliar with cruise etiquette. Unfortunately, this new clientele likely had different expectations about public behavior than those who previously paid premium prices.

As a result, the cruise line has been forced to engage in a delicate balancing act: managing vastly different customer expectations about the parameters of acceptable conduct. Carnival’s new guidelines are essentially an awkward attempt to return to the standards and atmosphere that characterized pre-pandemic cruising. The problem is that the company is trying to have its cake (keeping cabins filled at lower prices) and eat it, too (maintaining standards of conduct expected of premium-price passengers).

But what’s most concerning — and bizarre — about the Carnival controversy is the assumption that the new rules target and cause disproportionate harm to Black vacationers.

One TikToker proclaimed “We got the message loud and clear, we are not your demographic anymore. Carnival decided they wanted to rebrand.” Another complained that “Birthday plans ruined since Carnival decided they don’t like when we get on there and be black.” But not all members of the Black community objected to Carnival’s new policies. Some believed the issue isn’t race, but a recognition that shared spaces require mutual consideration. As one woman observed in discussing the recent decline in cruise conduct: “I do not blame Carnival Cruise. I do not support ignorance. Can’t we just act right?” Another offered: “So Carnival Cruise banning fans now cause y’all won’t stop putting “Boots on the Ground” and CLACKIN’ EM?! They even banning hip-hop music. That song got Black America in a chokehold LMAOOO.”

Taken together, these reactions highlight a concerning trend: identity-based assumptions often turn into identity-based battles that obscure legitimate issues and problems and prevent us from addressing them sensibly.

Without question, underrepresented groups have often faced disproportionate harm from institutional policies, whether they’re intentionally discriminatory or ostensibly neutral. For this reason, disparate impact analysis has long been a crucial tool in identifying and addressing discrimination in employment and education. This legal framework emerged from landmark cases like Griggs v. Duke Power Company. At issue was a power plant that required high school diplomas for positions that had previously been restricted to white applicants. In recognizing that 34 percent of white men had finished high school while only 18 percent of Black men had a diploma due to segregated education systems, the Supreme Court acknowledged the disparate negative impact to Black candidates.

In other situations, pre-employment testing often disproportionately excluded women and minorities from jobs by requiring tests that didn’t actually measure job-related skills. Similarly, physical fitness requirements unrelated to actual job duties were effectively screening out older workers. In this context, legal protections were essential in removing artificial barriers to opportunity.

Yet the legal framework used to dismantle systemic barriers in employment and education becomes problematic, and even nonsensical, when applied to behavioral expectations in shared spaces. There’s a fundamental difference between requiring irrelevant qualifications that exclude capable people from opportunities and establishing sensible standards of conduct that allow everyone to enjoy common areas.

Let’s face it: there’s nothing inherently “Black” about “ratcheting,” using marijuana or narcotics, bringing children to adult spaces late at night, or playing loud music that disturbs others. In fact, to suggest otherwise should be considered racist. These are individual behavioral choices, not cultural traditions worth celebrating or protecting. When critics of Carnival’s new policies link such conduct to Black identity rather than holding all people to the same reasonable standards, they reinforce stereotypes that civil rights advocates fought decades to overcome.

The conflation of cultural expression with disruptive behavior under the guise of inclusivity mirrors how diversity, equity, and inclusion efforts often undermine the groups they aim to help. Consider how this plays out in education: rather than invest in robust K-12 programs, supplemental tutoring, or mentorship initiatives that would help underrepresented students meet existing standards or even excel, schools often take the “easier” path of simply lowering expectations. This approach sends the implicit message: “We don’t actually believe you can meet the standards, so we’ll just change them instead.” Reducing academic standards or eliminating advanced courses in the name of equity assumes that Black and Brown students lack the skills or aptitude to rise to the challenge, or to even meet basic expectations. This doesn’t advance equality; to the contrary, it’s deeply patronizing and harmful. It’s soft bigotry wrapped in the language of compassion and inclusivity.

The same dynamic is at play with the Carnival controversy. When we frame common sense behavioral expectations as discriminatory or culturally insensitive, we suggest that certain communities are simply incapable of meeting basic community standards. Rather than expecting that people of all backgrounds can and should follow reasonable guidelines for shared spaces, critics rush to defend bad behavior that lowers the quality of the shared experience for all passengers, regardless of their background.

The focus on disparate impact to Black passengers is also myopic because it ignores the concerns of other passengers, especially vulnerable ones who may be less able to advocate for themselves. Elderly guests trying to rest, families with young children, and people simply seeking quiet spaces all benefit from rules that prevent others from dominating shared areas. One social media commenter noted, “I honestly thought that’s what cruises were for … to relax, get away from home, work and stress,” suggesting that the new rules contradict the carefree atmosphere most vacationers seek. Yet this perspective is actually selfish and misses a crucial point: relaxation for one person shouldn’t come at the expense of others’ enjoyment.

Worst of all, framing sensible protections on common spaces as discriminatory elevates the rights of disruptive individuals over the needs and comfort of everyone else. Rather than automatically assuming discrimination and cultural suppression when behavioral standards are enforced, we should instead ask whether rules serve legitimate purposes that apply equally to all passengers. 

Are Carnival’s new policies exquisitely tailored to meet the unique needs of every passenger? Of course not. But the principle underlying them — that individual enjoyment shouldn’t materially interfere with the experience of others — represents basic consideration for fellow travelers. The solution isn’t to abandon behavioral expectations altogether or pretend all conduct is equally acceptable in shared spaces by virtue of cultural or other identity-based expression, but rather to recognize that sensible rules protect everyone’s ability to enjoy their experience.

This is how a healthy society should function.

To be clear, this doesn’t mean that discrimination never occurs or that disparate impact analysis lacks any value. It’s critical that we remain vigilant and continue to identify and address systemic barriers in education, employment, and elsewhere. But we should also use common sense when applying this framework, especially when it comes to standards of conduct in shared spaces. Otherwise, we create a divisive and false equivalency between discriminatory barriers to opportunity and upholding societal norms of decency and respect.

Until we can distinguish between legitimately discriminatory behavior and attempts to impose basic standards of conduct and performance, we’ll continue to see these cultural battles. And we’ll continue to lose sight of what should matter most to all of us: maintaining standards that enable people from all backgrounds to thrive in shared spaces. The real tragedy is that something so obvious has become controversial.