Suddenly, I found myself thinking about the man from Central Park who had plugged his ears with disgust. Seeing the way our music inspires so many of us to exude pure, unadulterated pride (in a packed arena) made me realize exactly how much of a jerk that guy was. I realized that he wasn't just being rude (though, he was, because I would never turn my nose up at the music or food of someone from a different background than me in front of them), but completely disrespectful to an entire culture.

Of course, that wasn't the first time I'd experienced a white person being less than culturally sensitive about Latino music. I've often heard comments like, "Ugh, it just all sounds the same to me" and even, "Oh! I know reggaeton! That's that Daddy Yankee song 'Gasolina,' right?" But for Latinos, our music isn't simply the hit songs on the radio that "all sound the same" or that end up on the playlist in your Zumba class.

The first notes of a song can transport me to Sundays at my grandmother's house eating pasteles, or dancing merengue on the beach at 3 a.m. in Puerto Rico, or singing Celia Cruz at the top of my lungs with my mom and sister during long car rides. As a kid who grew up biracial in a mostly white environment, music was one of the things that helped me stay in touch with who I am. And for all of us — but especially those who may be homesick, living thousands of miles away from home — it helps us stay in touch with where we come from.

Our music also isn't something you get to criticize or dismiss right up until the moment it gets sampled by Drake or Justin Bieber, when the sounds of the Caribbean suddenly turn "cool." Each individual genre has roots in the history of our ancestors and has been transformed into something for us, by us. And that music is the soundtrack to our lives, the backdrop to birthdays, weddings, holidays, baptisms, even funerals.

So before you turn your nose up at an entire genre of music or downplay its significance, consider this: What you're hearing isn't just a song. It's a representation of who we are. And it's no one's place to judge that. Especially not yours. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to play "La Gozadera" on blast.