Zohran Mamdani, soon to be New York City’s first Indian American mayor, visited Queens’ historic Ganesh Temple during his campaign and declared, “I am proud that I would be the first Indian American mayor of this city.”
On the surface, it might have sounded like a typical campaign line. But for many of us who grew up quietly folding away parts of our heritage to fit in, that statement felt like something larger. It suggested that Indian American identity has reached a new level of visibility in national politics, bringing with it both new opportunities for influence and new risks tied to heightened scrutiny. This moment marks a shift in how Indian Americans are seen and how many are choosing to see themselves.
As a child, being Indian American meant learning to edit myself. I shortened my name, skipped cultural festivals, and winced when classmates mimicked Indian accents.
Many Indian Americans describe their identity in different ways. A significant number even today admit that they have hidden aspects of their cultural or religious practices from people outside the community. These choices reflect the balancing act of embracing identity while navigating a broader society. Politicians who look like us have often done the same.
Bobby Jindal, born Piyush Jindal, was the first Indian American elected governor in the United States, taking office in 2008. For many Indian Americans, his rise was a moment of pride. He showed that someone from their community could reach high office and even be considered a potential future president.
Yet his path also reflected pressures of rejection. He changed his name from Piyush to Bobby, avoided public displays of his heritage, and often spoke in ways that downplayed his Indian roots. By the time he ran for president less than a decade later, many in the community felt disappointed.
Mamdani’s approach feels different. He embraces his heritage openly, and his victory signals that Indian American identity can coexist with mainstream leadership. His words and actions are a declaration of belonging, a reminder that our stories are now part of the evolving American story.
And this shift is not about one candidate alone.
What once felt like a liability now feels like a source of strength. Leaders like Kamala Harris highlight her mother’s Tamil roots and share family traditions publicly. Aruna Miller brings Diwali celebrations into the Maryland governor’s office. Vivek Ramaswamy references his Kerala roots and even greets supporters in Tamil, saying “Naanum Tamil peshuven” (“I also speak Tamil”).
It isn’t just politics. Mindy Kaling writes sitcoms centered on Indian American families. Hasan Minhaj turns his childhood into a sharp political comedy. Brown kids on TV celebrate Diwali and eat dosa in cafeterias.
Once associated mainly with medicine and technology, Indian Americans now shape politics, media, and culture. This visibility carries implications beyond representation.
Speaking openly about heritage challenges old ideas about leadership and belonging. It encourages younger generations to see roots as strength, not a burden.
Yet this rise occurs alongside a surge in overt racism online. Social media platforms have seen growing volumes of hate speech targeting Indians and Indian Americans, from mocking stereotypes to harassment of public figures. A 2024 report cited by Voice of America found that anti–South Asian slurs in extremist online spaces doubled over the past year, from about 23,000 to more than 46,000, peaking in August 2024.
Public figures of Indian origin often face waves of digital abuse when they speak about their heritage or global events. Visibility empowers, but it also exposes communities to scrutiny in spaces where prejudice spreads quickly and accountability is limited.
At various points, politicians and commentators have highlighted the success of some Asian American communities as evidence that discrimination is no longer a major barrier in the United States. This framing is then used to criticize or delegitimize the struggles of other communities.
In these moments, one group’s success is held up to diminish another, flattening real differences in history and experience and turning identity into a political tool rather than a source of solidarity.
Mamdani’s visits to the Ganesh Temple and other community and cultural sites across Queens capture the possibilities of this moment. His leadership shows that heritage can be claimed openly and inclusively, as a source of connection and belonging rather than a wedge.
By embracing his identity without cynicism or division, he models a path for Indian Americans to turn visibility into opportunity. He inspires Indian Americans to embrace their heritage openly and confidently.
His victory is not just about one election; it is part of a larger story of a community stepping forward, celebrating its roots, and showing that Indian identity is now a source of strength and participation in shaping American public life.