In southern Louisiana, the renaming of the Gulf of Mexico to the Gulf of America by President Trump has sparked mixed reactions. For many residents, the traditional name has held historical significance for generations. While some embrace the new name as a patriotic gesture reflecting the gulf’s role in the U.S. economy, others view it as unnecessary and politically motivated. Local businesses, particularly in the tourism sector, quickly adopted the new name for branding. However, the shift has raised concerns about dividing opinions in an increasingly polarized nation, with some feeling it trivializes deeper issues like climate change affecting the region.
In the southern reaches of Louisiana, where the landscape resembles grains of rice and okra in a gumbo bowl, the nearby water has always had a significant impact. It has transported ancestors, supported the industries that underpinned the region, unleashed destructive storms, and steadily eroded the coastline, increasingly so in recent times.
Living close to the water necessitates a deep understanding of its patterns and impacts. However, for many generations, what to call it has been a thought most Gulf Coast residents haven’t pondered much.
“It’s always been the Gulf of Mexico,” remarked Kenneth Armand, 62, outside his home in Cut Off, La., mere yards from Bayou Lafourche, along the state’s southern coastline. “That’s how it’s been since I was born.”
When President Trump signed an executive order last month to rename it the Gulf of America, coastal communities began reassessing the basin in ways many had never done before.
For numerous Gulf Coast residents, this change was unexpected, if not baffling — the mandate seemed abrupt and did not align with a significant demand. Yet, many have embraced it, viewing it as a testament to the critical role the body of water plays in the nation’s identity and economy.
“God’s greatest country!” exclaimed Jeanie, 76, Mr. Armand’s wife. “Everyone’s calling it the Gulf of America now.”
Flora-Bama, a popular beach bar in Pensacola, Fla., has been consistently restocking $27 T-shirts featuring “Gulf of America,” according to a gift shop employee last week. The surge in shirt sales has also inspired branded hats and foam beer can sleeves.
“It was a no-brainer,” stated Jenifer Parnell, the company’s marketing director. “We’re patriotic, we support America, and we can sell some Flora-Bama merchandise.”
Not surprisingly, enthusiasm for the name change appears to correlate with support for Mr. Trump, as interviews with two dozen Gulf Coast residents indicated. However, some locals view the change as deepening a divide of another kind: In a country rife with division, where people increasingly hold contrasting realities, it represents yet another topic that was once indisputable but is now under scrutiny.
“When this change occurred, I felt we were losing our grip on reality and that the current administration was crafting its own narrative,” said Stephanie Davis, 60, a resident near the gulf in Fort Myers, Fla. “You can’t just rename a vast body of water that has carried the same name for 400 years — and yet, you can.”
Republican officials across the Gulf States — Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas — have quickly adopted the new name. Gov. Ron DeSantis of Florida began using it even before the official declaration, referring to the Gulf of America in an executive order related to a winter storm on January 20 — just hours before Mr. Trump signed the executive order.
Mr. Trump’s order has also initiated a more extensive and complex process, requiring state and local governments to determine whether to amend laws and official records. Florida lawmakers have proposed legislation mandating public schools to refer to it as Gulf of America and rename a highway as Gulf of America Trail. In Alabama, a bill aims to require public entities to adopt the name for new maps, documents, educational materials, websites, and official correspondence, which includes “reasonable efforts” to update older materials.
However, the order has also created a dilemma for entities that wish to steer clear of political disputes. Continuing with the traditional name may be viewed as a political stance just as much as adopting the new one.
Some news outlets along the coast continue to follow The Associated Press’s guidance to refer to it as the Gulf of Mexico — a choice that led to the Trump administration excluding A.P. reporters from certain events and pursuing a lawsuit. (Some publications with a global readership, such as The New York Times, still use Gulf of Mexico.) Gannett — which publishes coastal newspapers including The Corpus Christi Caller-Times, Pensacola News Journal, and The News-Press in Fort Myers — has chosen to reference both names in its articles.
The Galveston County Daily News in Texas has opted to retain Gulf of Mexico because it is “just stubborn about changing longstanding names,” stated editor Michael A. Smith.
“In the past, people in real estate attempted to rename an old Galveston neighborhood to something classier than Fish Village; it’s still referred to as Fish Village in the pages of The Daily News,” Mr. Smith added. He noted that the paper might reconsider if there is significant pushback from readers. “So far, we’ve had none.”
Congress designates the National Maritime Museum of the Gulf of Mexico in Mobile, Ala., as the only national museum dedicated to the gulf. The museum, operated by the city government, must follow the direction of city and state officials. “Changing the name will require quite a bit of time and financial resources,” said Karen Poth, the museum’s executive director.
However, removing all references to the Gulf of Mexico from the museum would be nearly impossible. It spans eight floors and boasts over 80 exhibits.
The term Gulf of Mexico (or its Spanish equivalent) can be traced back to the 1500s, though it has also been referred to at times as the Gulf of New Spain and the Florida Sea.
The gulf coast stretches approximately 1,680 miles from the mouth of the Rio Grande to Key West, representing a racially, economically, and biologically diverse region that includes pristine beaches and the murky waters of working shorelines.
Mr. Trump’s decree described the gulf as “an integral asset to our once-burgeoning nation” and “an indelible part of America,” emphasizing its significance to the oil and gas, seafood, and maritime sectors.
Conversely, Nelly Camuñas, a 33-year-old cosmetologist in Wesley Chapel, Fla., perceived it mainly as a power move by Mr. Trump. “It’s just another way to say, ‘Look at us; we’re the biggest and the toughest,’” she expressed. “I think we can identify it however we choose, but globally, that’s not how it operates.”
For many others in the area, the order elicited merely a shrug.
“The sand and sunshine remain unchanged, and it’s still a great place to be,” noted Tammy Ozinga, 57, a lifelong Pensacola resident. “You’re still going to entertain friends and family, still enjoy the waves, and if anyone is upset about the name change, it’s likely because they aren’t fans of change in general.”
Many mentioned that they had always simply referred to it as “the gulf,” and they plan to keep doing so. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever really called it the Gulf of Mexico in my life,” remarked Jacky Danaher, 44, a waitress at a Waffle House in Pensacola.
Ms. Danaher has gathered a variety of opinions on the topic from her customers, feeling the change was unnecessary. “I prefer to leave things as they are,” she said.
“I worry if my kids will be taught to say the Gulf of America,” she added, “because it’s akin to renaming the Atlantic or Pacific Ocean.”
Others contend that the gulf deserves Washington’s attention, but its name isn’t the issue at hand. The coastline has been significantly impacted by climate change, experiencing scorching summers and severe storms in recent years, with expectations that these challenges will only worsen.
Hurricane Ian wreaked havoc on Fort Myers Beach in 2022, damaging or obliterating nearly every building along its seven-mile stretch. The community later faced additional destruction from Hurricanes Helene and Milton in 2024, along with new worries about a red tide outbreak affecting the winter tourism season.
“Renaming seems like a lot of unnecessary work when far more urgent issues need addressing,” commented Jason Pim, 44, from Cape Coral, Fla.
Mr. Armand, who works for a helicopter charter service, questioned Mr. Trump’s authority to effect such a broad change. Nevertheless, he and his wife felt it was a commendable initiative. The gulf’s proximity to the U.S. and its crucial influence on livelihoods, culinary traditions, and personal narratives made the name feel fitting, they stated.
Ultimately, most of the waterway actually lies beyond the maritime areas governed by the U.S. Nevertheless, from the Armand’s perspective on the Louisiana coast, the gulf felt more American than Mexican.
“It’s akin to going to the moon and Mars — people mocked it,” Mr. Armand noted. “Sometimes it takes one outlandish idea for people to reflect on it.”
“As long as they don’t decide to rename Louisiana,” Ms. Armand added.
Elisabeth Parker contributed reporting from Tarpon Springs, Fla.