The translated meaning of Xwótqwem, typically simplified to “noisy water,” has been widely adopted by non-Indigenous organizations in Whatcom County as a cultural branding device. Some of these uses involve meaningful engagement with Indigenous communities. Others do not. This page documents both, because the point is not to condemn but to make the pattern visible and to show what doing it right looks like.
The accounting
Noisy Waters Mural Festival
Founded in 2023 by non-Indigenous co-founders Gretchen Leggitt and Nick Hartrich through the nonprofit Paper Whale. The festival explicitly states: “The word ‘Whatcom’ is derived from the Lhaq’temish word Xwot’qom, which translates to ‘noisy water.’” It draws 3,000+ attendees and awards cash contracts for permanent murals in downtown Bellingham.
To their credit, the festival includes an Indigeversal Collective featuring Indigenous artists from Nooksack, Lummi, and other nations. Project lead Savannah LeCornu stated in 2024: “It’s important that events like Noisy Waters celebrate Indigenous peoples and art because we still have so much to share and for so long we weren’t allowed to.”
Note, however, that their attribution cites only the Lummi (Lhaq’temish) and uses a non-standard spelling. The scholarly record identifies the word as Nooksack in origin with a Lummi cognate. The festival’s attribution is incomplete.
Noisy Water Review
Whatcom Community College‘s annual student literary anthology, published since at least 2011. Uses the translated name without any visible attribution to Indigenous source communities.
Noisy Waters Northwest
A civic affairs blog whose creator, Dena Jensen, explicitly credits the Lummi Nation for the word’s meaning. This is one of the few non-Indigenous uses that includes direct attribution.
The ubiquitous “Whatcom”
Whatcom Community Foundation, Turner Photographics, WhatcomTalk, and countless other organizations use “noisy water” as a cultural referent when explaining their county’s name. The word “Whatcom” itself (county, creek, falls, lake, college, media outlets) is all derived from the Coast Salish word. Every organization that uses “Whatcom” in its name is, in a sense, profiting from an Indigenous word. Most have no relationship with the communities whose language they carry.
What doing it right looks like
The QwotQwem installation (2023)
The most significant example of Indigenous-led reclamation of this word is the QwotQwem art installation, presented by Children of the Setting Sun Productions (an Indigenous cultural organization) at Hotel Leo in downtown Bellingham. The centerpiece was a ceremonial story pole initially carved by Samuel Cagey Jr. (Lummi elder) and completed by Jason LaClair (Lummi and Nooksack heritage).
Darrell Hillaire of Children of the Setting Sun described it as “the beginning of a dream to perhaps do an art gallery” and “an opportunity for experiential learning.” LaClair told Cascadia Daily News: “Sharing our culture and our art and our history, and being open about it, gives us a deeper connection to everybody around us.”
This is what it looks like when Indigenous communities control the use of their own cultural material. The word, the art, the framing, the venue partnership: all directed by Indigenous people.
Lummi fishermen return to Whatcom Creek (2020)
In 2020, Lummi fisherman Troy Olsen returned to fish Whatcom Creek for the first time in over a century of Lummi absence from the site. His observation cuts to the core of this entire issue: “People forget Whatcom is a Lummi word. We need to remind them we’re still here.”
This is not history. This is 2020. The people whose word names the county are still actively connected to the place that word describes.
The questions to ask
If your organization uses “Whatcom” in its name or “noisy water” in its branding, consider:
Do you credit the source? Not just “it’s an Indian word,” but which peoples, which languages, which scholarly sources document it? Do you name the Nooksack and Lummi nations specifically?
Do you use the accurate translation? “Noisy water” is a simplification. The precise meaning is “sound of water splashing or dripping fast and hard.” Using the simplified version is itself a form of erasure, stripping the word of its onomatopoeic specificity.
Do you have a relationship with the communities whose word you carry? Not a one-time acknowledgment in a newsletter. An ongoing, reciprocal relationship. Do Lummi or Nooksack people benefit from your use of their word?
Would the Lummi Nation or the Nooksack Tribe recognize your use as respectful? If you haven’t asked, you don’t know. The Language Sovereignty page provides guidance on how to start that conversation.
Continue reading: The Pattern, on why this isn’t just a Whatcom County problem.