It's pronounced Latinx. A thread.

I'm a Spanish-speaking person who was born and raised in Latin America. English is not my first language. I use the term Latinx all the time, increasingly so, both in Spanish and in English.

The first time I heard the -x at the end of a noun was in South America more than a decade ago. My elder said it in reference to a group of friends. Instead of saying "amigos," they said "amigxs."

I was confused at first. I asked about the pronunciation of the word; it was also explained to me that it included trans and gender non-confirming people. My elder, who's also Guarani, took the time to explain it this to me.

For those of us who don't speak Spanish: our language is gendered. I won't get into why—but it's a solid feature that can be difficult to explain to English-only speakers.

For example, in English, a group of ten friends are called "friends." In Spanish, a group of 10 friends who are women is called "amigas." A group of 10 friends who are men is called "amigos."

But, because of the gendered and ultimately machista nature of Spanish, a group of friends, 9 of whom are women and 1 of whom is a man, is called "amigos." My gender is disappeared. It's like a dirty war... for words.

What's more: there hasn't been a word for a collective group of 10 gender nonconforming friends in Spanish. Amigxs, it was explained to me, was a way to include everyone who's in your group of friends.

Once I understood that, I started hearing and seeing "amigxs" that describe people or groups of people ending in -x more often. It was everywhere. In Spanish. In Latin America. More than 10 years ago.

When I started seeing and hearing the word Latinx in the U.S., it felt familiar. I was curious at the way the -x had crossed a linguistic border and traveled its way north.

I work in media, and not all publications accept Latinx. I strive to use it when I can/am allowed to do so. Outside of publications, I sometimes fail to use it in my personal life. When I do, I revert to Latino.

I've internalized Latino, even though I consciously know it erases me. Language is really deep in that way.

In the last year or so, a lot of Latino men have very visibly revolted against the term Latinx. These men, who are all from the U.S., explain that *they* don't feel the term represents them. Oh the irony.

These same Latino men, who never once raised concern over the fact that Latina women like me are made invisible by the word Latino, suddenly feel invisible. Tuh.

Notice, by the way, that I still refer to myself as Latina. That's because I individually identify as Latina. When I'm in a group, I identify that group as Latinx.

Individually, I'm an amiga. My friends? We're amigxs.

I never perceived Latinx as a threat, the way I think many Latino men do. I get it, in some ways. Latino men are hated in society in so many ways. So you gotta hang on to what you got.

Nor did I ever presume Latinx to be some kind of imperialistic neologism that we're imposing on older, poorer, and less educated people.

Again: the person who explained amigxs to me what seems like forever ago was my elder. Poor in a way most of you will never understand poverty, and less educated as in never finished grade school. They got it. They taught me.

Plus, this is a Guarani elder we're talking about. They reminded me that Spanish is an imperialist language; that we should challenge our allegiance to its purity.

More than anything else, I'd like those of you who don't speak Spanish and are not Latinx to know that many of us do use the word. We're still working some of this out among ourselves, but in the meantime, we welcome you using the word.