The modern-day impacts stemming from colonization have become increasingly important. While there have been many efforts to undo colonial legacies, recent movements to rename streets named after white supremacists have sparked debates about the efficacy of this particular act of decolonization. During the era of colonialism, settlers strategically named locations to affirm their dominance over the land, with toponyms as markers of their relationship with it. By Erasing the Indigenous presence, the settlers sought to solidify their perceived ownership of the territories. Colonial place names tended to honour white leaders who were notable white political figures; however, it is crucial to remember that these leaders were also complicit in the systemic oppression of Indigenous peoples. Starting around 2021, cities in Canada have recognized this issue and begun approving some name changes of streets, for example, Dundas Street in Toronto (City of Toronto). These name changes have good intentions, but they do not serve the purpose of the bigger issue: Indigenous self-determination and self-worth, land reclamation and honouring rights. While renaming streets named after white supremacists may be a gesture towards decolonization, it not only diverts resources and effort from more urgent issues but also denies Canada's racist history.

By renaming streets, the Canadian government intends to remove the presence of systemic racism by replacing colonial narratives with Indigenous presence. However, citizens should recognize and acknowledge Canada's racist history rather than modify and erase it; it is implausible to pretend that the Canadian government has always cared for minorities. "As with other settler colonial states, Canada has been systematically mapped and named in accordance with colonial impulses to lay claim to "discovered' lands and establish settler ownership and belonging" (Karsgaard et al.). This can be shown through Canada's street names and how neighbourhoods are designed; for instance, how the city is mapped out exclusively through the colonial lens (in grids).

This cost can only skyrocket as more streets are categorized as having problematic historical contexts. With that said, 84% of Indigenous families still live in extreme poverty (Elliott). It becomes clear that it would be more sensible to use resources to address pressing issues, such as implementing anti-racism strategies. Spending all the money that could have gone to these causes on renaming acts as a literal surface-level act: changing the city's "labels" while systemic inequities continue to exist (Elliott). Such an approach may be impractical, hindering the government's capacity to address more pressing problems. Particularly, the government might falter when tackling issues that require substantial funding if the budget falls short. This lack of proper planning and resource allocation shows that the government hasn't put enough thought and effort into understanding key issues faced by Indigenous communities.

The government's diversion of resources from urgent issues ultimately fuels slow violence. Slow violence, a form of violence that occurs gradually and out of sight, affects the basic foundations of Indigenous communities: safety and health (Elliott). Violence Against Indigenous Women and Girls is a key issue requiring government funding and action. Native women account for a significant portion of all female homicides in Canada, which is "a homicide rate roughly between 4.5 and 7 times higher than all other women and girls" ("Understanding Indigenous Women"). Indigenous women and girls are much more likely to become victims of violence than other groups. Despite the shocking statistics, violence targeting this marginalized group is substantially underreported. Studies have also shown that Indigenous people are often seen as "less worthy victims" by the police, with their credibility questioned and requests for help not adequately addressed or ignored ("Understanding Indigenous Women"). Much of the specific types of violence suffered by this community are physical, sexual, and domestic violence. Living in remote community reserves, there are few accessible options for Indigenous women to escape domestic violence ("Understanding Indigenous Women"). Even if available, existing systems are not designed to handle Indigenous-specific situations. Therefore, these options are underutilized as they cannot provide Indigenous people with a "culturally safe space" ("Understanding Indigenous Women"). Slow violence, manifested through violence against Indigenous women and girls, is also evident in the issue of unsafe drinking water, which threatens the future vitality, presence, and strength of Indigenous communities. Despite promising to fix all long-term issues related to drinkable water within five years, "the Liberal government admitted that it is years from meeting its target." (Midzain-Gobin). These incompetent government policies lead to slow violence accumulating over time, resulting in long-lasting detrimental effects. These issues are not accidental; they have the potential to be fixed, yet no significant progress has been made. Considering that the dispossession of Indigenous peoples has historically reinforced the government's power and authority, it could be argued that there may be a tendency within the government to shy away from fully addressing these issues, potentially limiting the scope for Indigenous self-determination.

While some may interpret the act of renaming streets as advancing decolonization, framing this movement amongst issues concerning fundamental human rights within the Indigenous community reveals street renaming to lack substantial impact and inadvertently disregards Canada's history of systemic racism. Renaming streets may provide a temporary feeling of moral satisfaction, but it remains a surface-level gesture rather than a meaningful action. One must not merely settle for such acts but strive for tangible change addressing decolonization.

Although naming practices appear harmless, they subtly communicate a hegemonic narrative (Karsgaard, et al.). Toponyms were used as a tool of cultural erasure by eliminating Indigenous languages and culture in public spaces, breaking the relationship between Indigenous culture and land (Karsgaard, et al.). By overwriting Indigenous knowledge, culture, and relationships, settlers gain more control over the land and its resources (Karsgaard, et al.). Most colonizers believed that the Indigenous peoples were in the way of European development, as they did not use the land "properly" and "efficiently" (Renaerts, Emma). However, land should not solely serve the purpose of colonialism, as settlers do not consider the Indigenous lens of how the land can be used for spiritual and cultural purposes. Thus, offering support to rebuild Indigenous relationships with the land and reclaiming governance should be prioritized, not renaming streets. One way this could be addressed is through the location of Indigenous reserves. Before settlers arrived, Indigenous communities used to live in today's densely populated areas. However, as more settlers arrived, newcomers coveted the land, and the Indigenous presence was deliberately pushed further away and removed (Barman). Indigenous reserves are scattered across the country and have become "increasingly isolated from a fairly concentrated urban mainstream" (Barman). The government treated reserves in isolation from each other, preventing the formation of strong, large Indigenous communities. This is an act of purposeful erasure of Indigeneity. This removal allowed colonizers to establish a sense of Indigeneity without "having to be Indigenous to Vancouver (Barman). This misrepresentation of Indigeneity is starkly embodied in the erection of totem poles in Stanley Park in 1923 ("Totem Poles"). Despite being set up seemingly to mark the forced removal of the last Indigenous residents, these totem poles hold no cultural significance to the local Indigenous communities, serving more as artifacts of a settler narrative rather than markers of Indigenous presence ("Totem Poles"). This is a prime example of "Indigenous Indigeneity's replacement by a sanitized Indigeneity got from elsewhere"; it is a senseless and meaningless act where the government puts Indigeneity wherever they can and wherever they want to. In the same ways that erecting totems in Stanley Park is tokenistic while simultancously providing some small measure of Indigenous visibility, changing street names provides relief from the fact that colonialism often overshadows Indigeneity ("Totem Poles"). However, this temporary relief does not provide sustenance for Indigenous communities. Thus, changing commemorative street names of white supremacists promotes "a narrative that forgets the mistreatment, dispossession and genocide of marginalized peoples that is irrefutable to the legacies of the men being venerated." (Karsgaard, et al.). While renaming streets only draws attention to settler revisionist history, it is also a refusal and denial of current state authority (Karsgaard, et al.). Monuments and street names acts are constant reminders of Canada's past racial injustices. Removing them weakens the link between current Canadian society and its problematic past. People must remember that colonialism still influences society today. Changing the city's labels without addressing deeper issues can be seen as a way to distract and deny rather than resolve.

Redirecting resources and effort toward renaming streets, while a symbolic gesture towards decolonization, may not be the most effective use of resources. This is evident by the budget for renaming streets compared to areas where Indigenous people require assistance. In 2021, an estimation indicate that "it would cost more than $20 million to rename Dundas and other streets deemed problematic" (Elliott). This cost can only skyrocket as more streets are categorized as having problematic historical contexts.