European colonization was an act of erasure. Explorers, fueled by ambition and a thirst for expansion, swept across continents, renaming lands with little regard for the people who’d lived there for millennia. Their names—reflective of monarchs and far-off homelands—were a stamp of ownership, the English language a tool designed to overwrite existing identities.
But the spirit of resistance burns bright. Today, Indigenous communities worldwide are pushing back against this legacy of linguistic colonialism. They are reclaiming the names that speak to their connection with the land, names that echo the history their ancestors carved long before foreign ships arrived. This act of renaming isn’t just about words – it’s about restoring Indigenous presence, rewriting the narrative, and asserting sovereignty over their ancestral territories.
The Power of a Name: Indigenous Land Reclamations
In 2013, the Tsawout Nation of British Columbia made a powerful statement in reclaiming the name of a prominent mountain. The imposing peak known as Mount Douglas had been named for a colonial figure, but its original Indigenous name – PKOLS, or “White Head” – resonated with centuries of history. This act was part of a growing movement by Indigenous people worldwide to restore traditional place names, challenging colonial narratives and reaffirming their connection to the land.
The Tsawout Nation’s renaming effort echoes the story of Australia’s Uluru (formerly Ayers Rock). This sacred site of the Pitjantjatjara (Aṉangu) people was officially recognized by its Indigenous name in 2003. For Aboriginal Australians, reclaiming names is deeply symbolic. Rooted in traditions of the Dreamtime, these names connect them to a rich history that colonialism tried to suppress.
The struggle to restore Indigenous names highlights the significance of language in both colonization and decolonization. Terms used by explorers and missionaries—pagan, barbarian, squaw, redskin—perpetuated harmful stereotypes. In his influential work Elements of Indigenous Style, scholar Gregory Younging encourages writers and publishers to be mindful of language, breaking down these outdated, damaging terms.
From the mountains of British Columbia to the Australian Outback, Indigenous communities are asserting their histories and their place in the world. Changing a name is more than a symbolic gesture. It’s an act of resistance, a reclamation of land, and a powerful assertion of identity. It signals that decolonization is an ongoing process – one involving language, land, and the enduring spirit of Indigenous peoples.
Australia’s Lost Languages: Colonialism, Contradiction, and a Glimmer of Hope
Australia’s rich tapestry of Indigenous languages tells a complex story interwoven with the continent’s colonial history. The linguistic journey through Australia’s past is marked by neglect, curiosity, deliberate destruction, and a glimmer of preservation.
When settlers first arrived in what became New South Wales in the early 1800s, survival consumed their focus. Little effort was made to document the languages of the Indigenous inhabitants. But as colonists ventured deeper into Western and South Australia, a shockingly diverse web of languages and dialects emerged. This contradicted prevailing Eurocentric stereotypes of Aboriginal people as a monolithic, primitive group.
Despite the prevailing view of Indigenous Australians as an inferior race destined for extinction, a surprising source arose to counter this destructive tide: European missionaries. Armed with a classical education, some missionaries meticulously documented Indigenous languages. While they may have acted from paternalistic or proselytizing motives, their work inadvertently kept some linguistic flames flickering.
As Professor Robert M.W. Dixon pointed out, the ebb and flow of language preservation mirrored the fluctuating treatment of Aboriginal Australians. Periods of relative benevolence fostered linguistic curiosity, while seasons of oppression led to linguistic silence.
The island state of Tasmania exemplifies the devastating cultural genocide wrought by British colonialism. Its original inhabitants spoke up to twelve distinct languages. However, brutal colonization nearly eradicated this linguistic heritage, leaving only sparse wordlists that make reconstructing these lost languages nearly impossible.
The complex story of Australia’s Indigenous languages is far from over. It encompasses both great loss and the potential for revival. The work of linguists, historians, and passionate communities dedicated to revitalizing languages offers a glimmer of hope that some of Australia’s cultural and linguistic mosaic can be restored.
For too long, the focus on Aboriginal culture in Australia had been about control and “civilizing” missions. A drastic change didn’t arrive until the 1950s. It was then that anthropologists finally acknowledged the vital need to understand Aboriginal culture rather than simply erase it. This led to some (we must say, some) well-meaning missionaries relaxing their iron-fisted approach. Instead of wiping out Aboriginal traditions, they attempted to selectively preserve what they saw as “acceptable” bits.
The 1950s also saw language finally used for something positive in the relationship between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians. Previously, language was a tool of assimilation. Now, missionaries were learning and preaching in local languages. Astonishingly, on some missions, Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal Australians actually started translating the Bible together into Indigenous languages. Take Reverend Robert Love – even as far back as the 1920s, he meticulously translated the Gospels of St Mark and St Luke into Worora, a language of northern Western Australia.
Throughout the 20th century, on missions all over Australia, Indigenous languages unexpectedly became shared territory. Some argue these tentative steps were the very beginnings of the complex, and still very much ongoing, journey of reconciliation.
Reading more:
Indigenous Voices from Literature
Māori writer Patricia Grace once famously responded to the question of her origins with, “I was born on Te Upoko o Te Ika, the head of the fish… or, to put it another way, I was born in what is now known to most as Wellington, New Zealand”. This dual naming speaks to the heart of how Indigenous literature reclaims space and language.
For Indigenous writers, language itself is a powerful tool. Far beyond simple communication, their languages hold generations of knowledge, stories, and unique worldviews. The erosion of an Indigenous language can mean the loss of perspectives and vital wisdom in facing the complex challenges of our world.
Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg writer and activist Leanne Betasamosake Simpson embodies this philosophy. She fills her work with Nishnaabemowin, her people’s language, knowing the richness it holds that can’t easily be translated into English. Literature, according to Simpson, breathes life into language. By writing in the ever-evolving contemporary world, she resists the idea that her language is a relic of the past.
Simpson’s work challenges familiar place names. Montreal becomes Tio’tia:ke, its Kanien’kehá:ka (Mohawk) name, while Peterborough is Nogojiwanong, reflecting its place in Anishinaabeg territory. Toronto transforms into Gchi Enchikiiwang and Lake Ontario, Chi’Niibish. Even the term “Iroquois”, with its colonial baggage, is replaced with Rotinonhseshá:ka, the Kanien’kehá designation.
Indigenous literature challenges us to see the world anew. Through the lens of diverse languages, familiar landscapes shift and deepen, offering a richer, truer perspective on the places we inhabit.
Reclaiming Indigenous Identity in the Post-Colonial World
Northern Kimberley Gwion Gwion indigenous peoples rock art
Language, especially in a post-colonial context, isn’t just about words. It’s a powerful force for unity, identity, and a way to push back against historic oppression. As scholar Michael Christie bluntly puts it, “the oppression of Aborigines began with words.” The colonial powers used language to erase and suppress Indigenous cultures.
But today, language is helping Indigenous people worldwide to rise, reclaiming their unique value and contributions. No longer is the narrative centered on the colonizers and their languages; Indigenous communities assert their place and demand to be heard on their terms.
The blending of Indigenous languages with those of their former colonizers represents a new era. Forced assimilation is being rejected in favor of genuine acceptance of cultural and linguistic diversity. The goal is a true melting pot of shared space, much like the spirit of the Anishinaabeg phrase “Kina Gchi Nishnaabeg-ogamig” – a place where everyone lives and works together.
