You’ve probably stared at a map of the country a thousand times since elementary school without really thinking about the words. We just accept them. Ohio. Connecticut. Idaho. They’re just... there. But honestly, the names of the states in the US are a chaotic mess of linguistic theft, massive misunderstandings, and high-stakes political ego. It’s a miracle we even agree on how to spell them.
Take Idaho, for example. It’s a total lie. Seriously. George M. Willing, an eccentric lobbyist in the 1860s, claimed it was a Shoshone word meaning "gem of the mountains." People loved it. They almost named Colorado "Idaho" before they realized he’d basically just made the word up because it sounded "Indian-ish." By the time the real Idaho became a territory, the name had stuck. That’s the kind of vibe we’re dealing with here—half-truths and cultural mashups.
The Indigenous Roots We Barely Pronounce Right
Most people assume "Massachusetts" or "Mississippi" are just long words designed to win spelling bees. In reality, about half of the names of the states in the US are derived from Native American languages. But here’s the thing: they aren’t "pure" translations. They’re what happens when a French explorer or an English sailor tries to write down a sounds they’ve never heard before.
Take Kentucky. Depending on which historian you ask—like the legendary George Stewart in his classic Names on the Land—it could mean "land of tomorrow" or "meadow land." It likely comes from an Iroquoian word kenta-ke. Then you have Michigan, which is a French butchering of the Ojibwe word mishigami, meaning "large lake." It’s pretty literal.
The "S" in Illinois is silent because of the French. The Illiniwek people didn't call themselves "Illinois" with a fancy French suffix; the explorers added that because that’s just how they rolled in the 1600s. We see this pattern everywhere. Wisconsin was originally Meskonsing in the Miami language, but Marquette wrote it down as Ouisconsin, and eventually, the "O" became a "W" because of English clerical errors. History is basically one giant game of Telephone.
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European Kings, Queens, and a Lot of Flattery
If the name doesn't sound like a repurposed indigenous word, it’s probably a brown-nosing tribute to a European royal. The British and French were obsessed with naming things after their bosses to secure funding or stay in favor.
Georgia? That’s for King George II. Louisiana? King Louis XIV of France. Virginia was named for Elizabeth I, the "Virgin Queen," while West Virginia eventually split off during the Civil War, keeping the name but losing the vibe. Then there’s Maryland, named for Queen Henrietta Maria. It’s basically a map of the 17th-century European social registry.
The Weird Case of Pennsylvania
William Penn was a Quaker who wanted to name his colony "New Wales." The British government said no. He then suggested "Sylvania" (Latin for "woods"). King Charles II, who owed Penn’s father a massive debt, decided to tack "Penn" onto the front. Penn was actually horrified. He thought it looked incredibly vain, like he’d named it after himself. He even tried to bribe the secretaries to change it, but the King insisted it was to honor Penn’s father, the Admiral. So, Pennsylvania it stayed.
Why Do Some States Sound Spanish?
Down South and out West, the vibe shifts. You get Florida, which Ponce de León named Pascua Florida because he showed up during the "Festival of Flowers" (Easter). It’s the oldest European-placed name in the country that’s still in use.
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California is perhaps the most "meta" of all. It’s not a description of the land. It’s from a fictional 16th-century romance novel called Las Sergas de Esplandián. In the book, California was a mythical island populated by black Amazons. Spanish explorers just thought the name sounded cool, or maybe they were being sarcastic about the heat. Either way, we’re living in a name pulled from a Renaissance fantasy paperback.
Nevada is just "snowy." Colorado is "reddish." These were practical descriptions from Spanish travelers who were mostly just trying to find their way home.
The States That Don’t Fit the Mold
Then you have the oddballs. Rhode Island is a mystery. Some think it was named by Italian explorer Verrazzano because it reminded him of the Island of Rhodes in the Mediterranean. Others swear it’s from the Dutch Roodt Eylandt (Red Island) because of the clay on the shore. We honestly don't know for sure.
And Oregon? That’s a total mess. It might come from the French word ouragan (hurricane), or maybe the Spanish orejón (big ear), or it could be a typo on a map of the "Ouisconsink" river that got chopped off. Scholars like Thomas Howell have spent decades arguing about this, and the truth is still buried.
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Mapping the Logic of the Names of the States in the US
To make sense of this, you have to look at the "naming waves."
- The Coastal Colonial Wave: High-society British names (New York, Carolinas).
- The Interior River Wave: Mostly French-corrupted indigenous names (Missouri, Arkansas, Iowa).
- The Westward Expansion Wave: A mix of Spanish descriptions and "made-up" vibes to sound rugged (Montana, which is just a Latin-ish word for "mountainous").
Arkansas and Kansas are the same word. Seriously. They both come from the Kansa tribe. But because the French influenced Arkansas and the English influenced Kansas, we pronounce one with a silent 's' and the other like a "can of sass." It’s illogical, it’s annoying, and it’s uniquely American.
Practical Takeaways for the History Buff
If you’re trying to memorize these or just want to impress people at a bar, remember these three things about how we named this country:
- Don't trust the "official" translation. Most "Indian" names were filtered through three different languages before they reached an English map. The "meaning" is often a romanticized guess from the 1800s.
- Look for the "New." New Hampshire, New Jersey, New York—these were all just homesick Europeans trying to make the "New World" feel like the old one.
- The "ia" suffix is your friend. It’s Latin. It just means "Land of." Georgia (Land of George), Virginia (Land of the Virgin), California (Land of Calafia).
What to Do Next
If you want to dig deeper into the actual linguistics, check out the United States Board on Geographic Names. They’ve been the official arbiters of this stuff since 1890. You can also look up the specific etymology of your own state through your local historical society—often, there are local legends about the name that are way more interesting than the "official" version.
Start by looking at your town's name. Usually, if the state name is indigenous, the town names are either named after the founder’s hometown in England or a local landmark that no longer exists. Understanding the names of the states in the US is really just the first step in realizing that the map is a graveyard of languages and lost empires.