According to federal officials, the gulf has been known by various names over the centuries, including Golfo de Nueva España (The Gulf of New Spain) and Mar Di Florida (the Florida Sea), reflecting its contested history among France, Spain, and other European countries during the colonization of the New World. The renaming of geographical places falls under the jurisdiction of the U.S. Board on Geographic Names, which is responsible for standardizing geographic names within the United States. The Board discourages name changes unless there is a compelling reason, and correcting historical usage is not considered a primary reason for a name change.
While changes made by the U.S. Board on Geographic Names may not be binding on the states bordering the gulf or other countries, Florida has already embraced the new name. Google Maps, the most widely used digital navigation app in the U.S., and other platforms like Waze, owned by Alphabet, Google’s parent company, may update their maps to reflect the new name. However, the exact timeline for these changes remains unclear.
When it comes to international disputes over geographical names, Google Earth typically follows a policy of displaying the primary local name given by the sovereign nations bordering the body of water. If there are disputes, both names may be displayed. It is uncertain whether this policy will extend to Google Maps and Waze. As of now, both Google Maps and Apple Maps still refer to the body of water as the Gulf of Mexico. Other countries are not obligated to adopt the new name chosen by the United States, and international bodies like the United Nations Group of Experts on Geographical Names help mediate discrepancies in naming conventions.
According to its website, the organization states that geographers, linguists, cartographers, and planners work together to develop tools and technology, provide outreach, and believe in the importance of using a common framework of geographical names for the world’s benefit.
Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum Pardo recently proposed renaming the United States “Mexican America” during a news conference in Mexico City. She displayed historic maps from the 17th and 19th centuries, suggesting that the region now known as the United States was previously referred to as “America Mexicana” or Mexican America.
Sheinbaum Pardo noted that changes to place names can occur relatively quickly under the “Restoring Names That Honor American Greatness” executive order, which mandates implementation within 30 days. Normally, renaming a place in the U.S. takes about six months to allow consultation with various stakeholders such as states, tribes, and mapmakers.
While there are benefits to maintaining consistent place names for navigation purposes, there is a growing social conversation about the impact of colonial renaming practices on indigenous histories. Changing place names can evoke strong emotional responses, as seen in the case of Fort Cavazos in Texas, where the renaming still upsets local residents who feel a sense of identity and history tied to the original name.
The executive order also includes changing the name of Alaska’s Mount Denali.
In a symbolic return to its roots, Mount McKinley once again stood tall as Denali in 2015. The decision came from then-President Barack Obama, who acknowledged the significance of the local Native American name. Denali, derived from the Athabascan language, translates to “the High One,” embodying the majestic essence of the towering peak in Alaska.
The renaming of the nation’s tallest summit reignited a long-standing debate that traces back to as early as 1916, as noted by the National Parks Service. Embracing the historical and cultural significance of the indigenous name, Alaskans rallied behind the change, advocating for the recognition of the mountain’s true identity. On the contrary, Ohio, the home state of William McKinley, the 25th President of the United States, expressed opposition to altering the well-established moniker.
The evolution of nomenclature sparked reflections on the complexities of heritage, identity, and ownership embedded within geographical landmarks. The journey from Mount McKinley to Denali epitomized the delicate balance between historical legacy and cultural authenticity. As the mountain reclaimed its original name, a poignant narrative unfolded, resonating with the diverse narratives interwoven into the fabric of American landscapes.
Amidst the resonance of Denali’s rebirth, a new wave of discourse emerged recently, echoing the echoes of the past. An unexpected proposal surfaced, igniting debates across the nation. The proposal in question sought to redefine the waters of the Gulf of Mexico as the Gulf of America, a bold initiative that challenged the boundaries of tradition and geography.
The notion of renaming a significant body of water stirred contrasting reactions, inviting contemplation on the power dynamics intertwined with geographical designations. While some embraced the idea as a symbolic gesture of unity and inclusivity, others questioned the rationale behind altering established names that carry historical, cultural, and geographical significance.
The proposal to rename the Gulf of Mexico as the Gulf of America underscored the multidimensional nature of toponymy, highlighting the intricate interplay between language, identity, and politics. The act of renaming, whether applied to mountains or seas, serves as a testament to the evolving narratives that shape our understanding of the world around us.
As the discourse surrounding the proposed renaming continues to unfold, one cannot help but reflect on the complexities inherent in reshaping geographical identities. The power of a name extends far beyond linguistic conventions, transcending into realms of history, memory, and belonging.
In the realm of toponymic transformation, each change carries the weight of collective narratives, echoing the voices of those who came before and those who envision a future shaped by inclusivity and recognition. Whether it be Mount McKinley’s transition to Denali or the potential reimagining of the Gulf of Mexico, the act of renaming stands as a testament to the enduring dialogue between heritage and progress, tradition and innovation, past, and present.
In this ever-evolving landscape of toponymic discourse, the essence of a
