I’ll admit it – I sing to myself as I walk to class. I sing bright, peppy tunes to encourage myself as I walk the frozen tundra that is our campus.

Apparently, I sing quite loudly. As I sang Destiny’s Child’s “Bootylicious” to myself, I noticed an audience. A punk-rock kid decked out in stovepipe jeans, sneakers and spiky hair watched me. First, he shook his head in disgust at my choice in tunes. Then, he chuckled at my uncultured ways as he walked away.

Suddenly, I felt cold. Then, I felt rage.

I hate music snobs.

Music snobs are vicious. Sneering, they judge you by what you love to listen to. Without compassion, they make you feel silly, petty and unsophisticated. They use your iTunes playlist as a map to your personality and treat you accordingly.

So cruel. It’s amazing how far people will go to insult your music tastes. Once, I was talking about how I occasionally listen to Panic at the Disco in my car. The girl I was talking to told me she would rather kill herself than admit that.

At the time, I sheepishly hung my head and mumbled something about some indie band in order to redeem myself and win my friend back.

Another time, I was talking about my love for Radiohead when my friend at the time said, “Whoa! You don’t listen to Radiohead.”

“What do I listen to then?” I asked rather flirtily at the time as I hoped to maybe impress him with my adorable charm because he was unimpressed with my music taste.

“You listen to whiny girl music,” he continued. “Radiohead isn’t your kind of band.”

Despite the fact I do listen to “whiny girl music,” I was insulted.

He and I are no longer friends.

The most horrible instance was in high school when I was rapping my favorite song at the time, “Knuck If You Buck,” and some clever hipster shouted out, “You can’t spell crap without rap!”

Clearly, music snobs are also spelling champions.

Where do people come off saying things like that? It’s OK if they don’t like certain kinds of music. I’m not going to even try to argue the artistic value of music such as Lil Jon’s, but I will argue that it is okay to enjoy it. You are supposed to like it. Radio music is supposed to be fun and catchy. People shouldn’t be afraid they will be judged by their love of it.

Unfortunately, they will be. Music snobs look down on me because I jam to the Pussycat Dolls. Does that make me shallow? A whore? A follower? I also listen to The Bravery, M.I.A, Beethoven, The Beatles, T.I. and on occasion, Aly and AJ. Who am I then?

The worst thing is music snobs are so vocal and so sure they are the best. You see them commenting on videos on YouTube, blogs and Facebook.

I think a lot more people listen to a wider range of music than they admit. How many people are going to admit they secretly listen to the ’80s pop their parents introduced them to or the ’90s boy bands they grew up with? Not many.

But I will, because I love music. Music snobs think they do, but they don’t. They love to be superior.

Where do people learn such bigotry? I know it’s dramatic, but that’s what it is: bigotry. It’s narrow-minded people who decide what is appropriate to listen to. I think it’s cultured to listen to every type of music. More so, I think it’s cultured to enjoy music. If a song has excited, soothed or moved me in any way, it has served its purpose.

If Soulja Boy’s “Crank Dat” is what moves you then keep on cranking.

Most importantly, tell those music snobs what you really think. Tell them pants so tight you can see veins in their legs will never be OK, men shouldn’t wear v-neck T-shirts and listening to small, unknown bands doesn’t make them music critics. It probably just means they purposely sought out these bands to appear more sophisticated.

Music snobs are missing out. They will never understand the sugar rush of a pop song, the fun of a simple chorus or the easy to repeat everyman lyrics. Most of all, they aren’t better than anyone.

So music snobs, know this: It’s not my body, but it’s my mind that’s too bootylicious for ya’, babe.

Everdeen Mason can be reached at [email protected]