Opinion Advocates for ideas and draws conclusions based on the author/producer鈥檚 interpretation of facts and data.
Race, Caste, and the Model Minority Myth
If the construction of the 鈥渕odel minority鈥 myth for Indian Americans rides on the back of their alleged casteless-ness, then their anti-Blackness, or at least a deliberate effort to separate themselves from marginalized Black Americans and other 鈥渓ess desirable鈥 Indian immigrants, has also played a massive part in its edifice.
Even as Indian Americans prefer to assert their model behavior by touting their selectively handpicked IT professionals, tech workers, and entrepreneurs, forgotten is the swelling population of undocumented Indians, which according to the Migration Policy Institute as of 2019 is approximately 553,000 (5%) of the estimated 11 million unauthorized immigrants in the United States. Nor included are the working-class Indians, some of whom moved to the United States in the late 1800s and continue to form a significant population of Indians, especially in areas like New York City and Philadelphia, and parts of California.
Bengali Muslim peddlers and Punjabis from rural immigrant communities in the nineteenth century experienced and responded differently to discrimination from the largely 鈥渦pper鈥-caste educated professionals during the time and were among the most targeted by the 鈥測ellow peril鈥 racist American policies of that era.
鈥淲hile those who came to work the land, work in lumberyards, or work on the railroads bore the brunt of physical attacks, educated professionals who did not confront such direct hostility began crafting a racial politics that would distinguish them from their poorer compatriots, from other nonwhite immigrants, and from Black Americans,鈥 notes [Harvard-based anthropologist Ajantha] Subramanian.
The notorious case of 鈥攁n Indian immigrant who, in 1923, argued to be considered white, since he was a 鈥渉igh caste Aryan full of Indian blood鈥濃攊s a remarkable insight into the period鈥檚 eugenics-flavored 鈥渦pper鈥-caste ideology, by which several 鈥渦pper鈥-caste Indians considered themselves genetically superior to Dalits and Adivasis, and instead more aligned with white Caucasians.
As Thind lost the case (ultimately leading to scores of Indians having their citizenships neutralized by 1926), equating 鈥渦pper鈥 casteness to whiteness became a losing strategy. However, by the 1960s, around the second big wave of Indian 鈥渦pper鈥-caste immigration, identifying as 鈥渘ot Black鈥 was quickly becoming a go-to for Indian Americans. 鈥淭here was a common thread of understanding that emerged: the path to social and financial security was to avoid the taint of Blackness. While professional Indians no longer did so through recourse to whiteness, as had earlier elite migrants, they now leveraged class, nationality, and, most importantly, educational achievement, to fashion themselves as members of a model minority,鈥 writes Subramanian in The Caste of Merit.
Regardless, Indian Americans who moved to the U.S. over the last century were treated with racism, with many of them still considered 鈥淏lack鈥 regardless of their effortful delineations. During her interviews with [Indian Institutes of Technology] IIT graduates from the sixties, Subramanian discovered the tactics which several immigrant Indians employed to distinguish themselves as 鈥渘ot Black,鈥 especially in the South, which was still in its Jim Crow era. Men started wearing a turban, whether or not they wore one back home in India, while women were encouraged to wear a sari to identify themselves as distinctly Indian.
鈥淚 got the impression that the South was embarrassed to be mistreating foreign visitors,鈥 one of the interviewees told Subramanian. 鈥淭hey had no problem discriminating against U.S. Blacks, but they went to lengths to ensure that we were fine.鈥 This disposition, although prevalent in the 鈥渦pper鈥-caste Indian immigrant professionals of the time, more or less ignored the efforts of the Black civil rights movement that, after decades of exclusion, made Indian immigrants鈥 reentry in the U.S. possible with the changes in the 1965 U.S. immigration laws.
鈥淚mmigrants from India, armed with degrees, arrived after the height of the civil-rights movement, and benefited from a struggle that they had not participated in or even witnessed. They made their way not only to cities but to suburbs, and broadly speaking were accepted more easily than other nonwhite groups have been,鈥 reads an Atlantic piece titled 鈥淭he Truth Behind Indian American Exceptionalism.鈥 Mindsets towards those who were 鈥渓ower鈥 than them on the hierarchy of caste among 鈥渦pper鈥-caste Indian Americans easily transferred to those who they saw as now being 鈥渓ower鈥 on the hierarchy of race.
By not treating Indian 鈥渇oreigners鈥 with the same disdain and disgust they did Black folks who had helped build their country, white Southerners, among others, inscribed a racial hierarchy, where Indians鈥攏either the highest but not the lowest either鈥攆ound themselves squarely in the middle. This new racial marker perfectly aligned with the self-ordained myths of 鈥渦pper鈥-caste Indian tech graduates who, according to Subramanian, already equated their middle-class identity with a constructed idea of 鈥渦pper鈥-caste merit, and further propelled this notion leading them to define themselves as different if not 鈥渂etter鈥 than Black Americans.
In her interview with the famous angel investor who launched the first Indian American company on Nasdaq, Subramanian finds him saying that Indians in Silicon Valley were 鈥渟een differently, as people who engaged in self-help, not asking for handouts,鈥 echoing an anti-welfarist rhetoric targeted against Black and Brown Americans that is also often used against Dalits and Adivasis who avail reservations.
The model minority ideal, created by 鈥渦pper鈥-caste Indians with more than a little help from white Americans who first coined the term to describe Japanese immigrants, suffocates all other modes of existence and helps Indian Americans deny the existence of caste-based distinctions in the United States. There has been a long history of Black and South Asian solidarity, including the relationship between Ambedkar and W. E. B. Du Bois; the Dalit Panther Party; the early relationships between Black civil rights leaders and the gandhian movement (including Martin Luther King and Bayard Rustin); and the rich tapestry of Bengali Muslim and Punjabi immigrants who settled in New York鈥檚 East Harlem and in Baltimore, New Orleans, and Detroit, and married and partnered with Black and Caribbean women since the early 1900s.
Yet, they are rarely heard, recounted, or remembered. 鈥淚t was the more prosperous sector of South Asians, the post-1965 professionals, who had the means to represent the community as a whole, so it was their image that came to dominate the image of South Asian-Americans,鈥 says documentary filmmaker, historian, and MIT professor , who painstakingly traced the narratives of Bengali immigrants in Bengali Harlem and the lost histories of South Asian America.
The lid has been held tight for too long. Breaking free from this mold will allow the Indian American community to not only reckon with their denial of caste but also allow more vulnerable members, Dalit, Adivasi, and otherwise, to get the attention, care, and justice they deserve. Caste has successfully escaped our attention for far too long, not in small part as a result of the concerted efforts by the Indian American 鈥渦pper鈥-caste majority who have willfully erased, denied, and blurred its existence while continuing to benefit from the privileges their higher status provides them. It鈥檚 time to stop accepting wafer-thin excuses on why we should not pay greater attention to this damaging segregation and discrimination of people on the basis of their birth. And it鈥檚 time to start rethinking our models.
Excerpted from by Yashica Dutt (Beacon Press, 2024). Reprinted with permission from Beacon Press.
Yashica Dutt
is a journalist, activist, award-winning writer, and a leading feminist voice on caste. Born 鈥渋n a formerly untouchable 鈥榣ower鈥 caste family,鈥 she passed as dominant caste to survive discrimination. Dutt moved to New Delhi, India, at age 17 and became one of the most widely read culture journalists at a leading English language paper. Eventually 鈥渃oming out as Dalit,鈥 she introduced this expression, which has powerfully resonated in India. Her site, Documents of Dalit Discrimination, was among the first highly visible media spaces for caste-oppressed people. Dutt鈥檚 work has been published in The New York Times, Foreign Policy, and the Atlantic, and she has been featured in The Guardian, and on the BBC and PBS NewsHour. Dutt lives in Brooklyn, New York.
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