Source: The Conversation – Canada
The ongoing economic spat between Canada and the United States took a strange turn after U.S. President Donald Trump signed an executive order “renaming” Lake Ontario as Lake America.
The lake is the second body of water to be renamed by Trump. In January 2025, he similarly ordered that the Gulf of Mexico be renamed the Gulf of America. That same order also officially changed Alaska’s Mount Denali to its colonial name, Mount McKinley.
While many might view Trump’s renamings as comical or unserious, for Indigenous communities, they are reminiscent of centuries of settler-colonial erasure.
What’s in a place name?
The name Ontario can be traced to the Huron word ontarí:io, a Wyandot (Huron) word meaning “the lake is great/large,” with a root ontar- meaning “lake” and a suffix -io meaning “great/large.” Observant readers might notice that Ohio has the same -io suffix, translating to “large creek.”
The first written mention of the name Ontario was in 1641. Of course, the name predates 1641 and has existed for centuries. It is an example of an Indigenous place name that was adopted by European settlers. This, however, is not how all place names were adopted in Canada.
Long before European explorers arrived in North America, Indigenous people already had their own ways of naming geographic locations, which were passed down orally by elders. Naming tends to be descriptive, like we find in places in Nunavut such as Aulattivik (peninsulas where animals were hunted) or Qikiqtarjuaq (big island).
Europeans also used descriptive language to name some places, think Red River or Great Lakes. Other times, they adapted local Indigenous words, such as Ontario, Saskatoon or Mississauga.
In many other cases, however, place naming in North America was done to commemorate people, erasing the original local Indigenous names, such as in Vancouver, Halifax or Washington. Indeed, America itself is named after Amerigo Vespucci, the Italian explorer whom Europeans credited with “discovering” it. Other times, places were simply renamed after a European counterpart; think Nova Scotia or New York/Amsterdam.
Although Europeans were almost certainly aware that local inhabitants already had names for the geographic points they sought to (re)name, most of them used naming as a way to lay claim to the land.
This colonial practice of using European place names rather than the local Indigenous name reflects a view that the “new world” was nobody’s land or terra nullius to be conquered.
Ignoring previous names and instituting one’s own name suited this goal, which was to make their sovereign’s territories larger and to make them more powerful. It was also to show domination by one nation and the submission of others. With Donald Trump’s executive order, we might say that history is repeating itself.
Not all name changes are equal
Canada’s United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples Act states that Indigenous people have the right to “designate and retain their own names for communities, places and persons.”
There is more recognition today of the harmful role Canadian and U.S. governments have played in the attempted cultural erasure of Indigenous Peoples across the continent.
Cities have changed street names to stop memorializing proponents of colonization. We have also seen a rise in the use of Indigenous endonyms — place names used by local people in their own language — over English alternatives, such as the use of Haida Gwaii for what used to be known as the Queen Charlotte Islands.
Place naming authorities of the Geographical Names Board of Canada are working with Indigenous organizations to restore traditional place names and reflect the language and culture of this land’s first inhabitants.
Some may draw a parallel between these name changes and Trump’s executive order renaming Lake Ontario to Lake America. But not all name changes are created equal.
In restoring Indigenous place names, we reverse colonial erasure and attempt to right historical wrongs. Trump’s executive order, on the other hand, hearkens back to an imperialistic mentality where naming was meant to show dominance.
Today, though, we can see through these attempts, and we know that everyday language use is not so easy to dictate and change.
Our peers and those we interact with day-to-day influence how we speak in our daily lives: not the U.S. president and not even a language authority. A dictated language change will carry no traction if nobody takes it up. It is awkward to change a name that has been used for centuries.
Name changes can find more acceptance, however, when done in an inclusive way. Winnipeg renamed one of its major thoroughfares, Bishop Grandin, to Abinojii Mikanah in 2024.
Yet, Abinojii has found no difficulty becoming the accepted name by a vast majority of Winnipeggers with the will to do so. Importantly, this change was implemented after committee consultation with Indigenous and Metis Elders.
Visual and material culture studies professor Lauren Beck suggests that we continue the process of renaming in order to draw a new map “that better reflects who we are.”
Canada appears to be moving in this direction, attempting to undo the cultural erasure resulting from colonialism (even if it is taking longer than many would like). On the other hand, Trump’s executive order is reminiscent of an imperialistic stance that was more common a few centuries ago.
Language changes over time, but crucially, it changes to reflect our historical moment. I don’t anticipate many people using “Lake America” no matter what paper is signed declaring it so.
Nicole Rosen receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada.
Original source: https://analysis1.mil-osi.com/2026/08/28/trumps-renaming-of-lake-ontario-is-emblematic-of-centuries-of-colonial-erasure/