First written by editor John L. O'Sullivan in 1845, the term was used in an essay that urged the annexation of Texas (which still belonged to Mexico at the time) and a strong westward push into what were lands seized from Indigenous peoples and owned by England, France, Spain and Mexico. O'Sullivan expanded on the idea in a later piece stating his belief that it was divine destiny that the US extend all the way to the Pacific Ocean. The concept gained traction with readers and tapped into a burgeoning but unspoken belief among some European immigrants and their ancestors that would eventually accelerate.

Ever since the Louisiana Purchase of 1803 effectively doubled the size of the US, many non-Indigenous people had already begun to romanticize the West. To reinforce and visualize the ideals already brewing, artists created works depicting brave settlers, untamed wilderness and vast empty lands that appeared ripe for the taking. Of course, this (at best) completely sidelined or (at worst) deliberately omitted any trace of Indigenous nations occupying those territories and the civilizations they'd built.

Marginally and, if so, often in a manner designed to serve the concept of Manifest Destiny. In Frances Flora Bond Palmer's lithograph Across the Continent, the detailed work (which is subtitled with the phrase "Westward the Course of Empire Takes Its Way") depicts two Indigenous figures on the far right side of the frame. They are intentionally placed beneath a cloud's shadow and on the verge of being overcome by the sooty black exhaust from a train's steam engine against an otherwise pristine vista. The two figures are drawn as literal unenlightened beings left in the dust. Equally sinister is John Gast's painting American Progress from 1872. Gast's work also uses the depiction of natural sunlight as a way to show favor to the cities of those with European ancestry as Indigenous peoples are under a darkened sky seemingly fleeing from "progress."

Many of these images were reproduced in what were then new guides to the American West and, with the limited distribution of media at the time, played a huge role in shaping America's still-forming national identity. They almost universally framed the movement in a positive manner, promoting "settlers," industry and environmental degradation as avenues to progress–all while denying the existence, heritage and contributions of Native peoples. The movement's enormous pressure often forced the hand of various tribes to begrudgingly cede their own lands and resources that would benefit generations of non-Native inhabitants and greatly expand US fortunes and potential.

Many of the images that became codified–wagon trains, rough-riding frontiersmen, prairie campfire gathering–by the art of this time were passed along through literature, film and TV through the 20th century. And many of these were potent additions to the chronic flattening of Indigenous life and history. This includes covering up the work of Indigenous artists (past and present), such as those who created murals for the World's Fair and other initiatives funded by FDR's Works Progress Administration. It took until 2021 and the premier of Reservation Dogs for a TV show to debut with an all-Indigenous team of writers, directors and series regulars. The milestone, simultaneously monumental in scope and also woefully insufficient, makes clear that the journey toward real parity for Indigenous peoples everywhere is just beginning.