For years, being called ‘Indian-origin’ was worn as a badge of pride. It was a reminder of heritage, a way of linking the world’s largest democracy to its sprawling diaspora. Indian media, in particular, revelled in the phrase. Every time a CEO took charge of a Fortune 500 company, every time a cabinet minister was sworn in abroad, the headlines followed a familiar rhythm: Indian-origin leader achieves global success.
But in the past year, the phrase has started to sound less like pride and more like a trap. Across the West, Indians are now at the centre of a fierce political argument about migration. In the United States, conservative voices such as Charlie Kirk insist “America does not need more visas for people from India,” claiming that no form of immigration has displaced American workers more.
Fox News host Laura Ingraham went further, warning that “any trade deal with India will require us to give them more visas,” adding that she would rather block such concessions. On the surface, this is the familiar anti-immigration rhetoric that has accompanied every wave of newcomers, from Italians to Mexicans. But Indians are in a peculiar position: they are resented precisely because they have been so successful.
Author Anand Ranganathan rushed to defend the diaspora by listing its achievements. “The Indian community in America has the highest median income, $145,000; most degree holders, 75 per cent; owns 60 per cent of hotels; makes up 12 per cent of Fortune 500 CEOs; 11 per cent of doctors; holds 10 per cent of US patents since 1975; founded 72 unicorns.”
His conclusion was blunt: “America is successful because its Indian community is.” The instinct is understandable. Faced with hostility, many communities turn to numbers that prove their worth. But here lies the danger: in repeating those numbers, Indians risk reinforcing the idea that they are guests who must constantly justify their presence. Belonging becomes conditional, tied to economic output, degrees, and patents, rather than taken for granted.
No one called Tony Abbott “UK-born” when he became Australia’s Prime Minister, though he was. No one branded Kristina Keneally “US-born” when she became Premier of New South Wales. In America, politicians of Irish or Anglo-Celtic descent rarely carry hyphenated identities in headlines. Their belonging is assumed. Yet Indians are endlessly tagged as “Indian-origin.”
Indian media celebrated Rishi Sunak’s rise to Prime Minister as ‘the first Indian-origin British PM,’ showing how the label dominated headlines. How Kamala Harris was regularly described in Indian media through the prism of her maternal roots, even while serving as Vice President of the United States, shows how the label persists. Sundar Pichai and Satya Nadella are not simply CEOs, they are “Indian-origin CEOs.” The pride is understandable. The effect, however, is to cast Indians as perpetual outsiders, forever attached to another soil.
In part, this reflects the Indian media’s hunger for diaspora success stories. A doctor in New Jersey or a student topping an exam in Sydney is celebrated as though they were national victories. It is harmless at first. Over time, though, the repetition makes it seem as though Indians abroad are guests whose loyalty must be tested. That narrative has now been seized by those who argue that Indians are too visible, too numerous, too influential.
Ravi, a social media user, captured the sentiment bluntly: “The Indian community in America is hated for how successful it is. They are jealous.” That envy matters. It fuels the sense that Indians are not just migrants but competitors, blamed for high rents in Toronto, for H-1B visa queues in Silicon Valley, or for infrastructure pressure in Sydney. Here again, the community’s response matters. To keep repeating “we pay taxes, we contribute, we are doctors and CEOs” is to accept the framing of conditional acceptance. It suggests that Indians must earn their place, while others simply have theirs.
The truth is that migrants everywhere have faced suspicion. The Irish in 19th-century America were branded drunkards and job stealers. Chinese workers on the goldfields of Australia were portrayed as a “yellow peril.” Italians, Greeks, and later Arabs have all faced their moments in the spotlight. What is different for Indians now is the speed and scale with which online platforms amplify resentment.
Donald Trump courted Indian-Americans at rallies, even appearing alongside Narendra Modi at the “Howdy Modi” event in Houston. Yet within his base, resentment simmered. The H-1B visa, once seen as a tool for innovation, was reframed as a way of replacing American workers with cheaper Indian labour. Calls to slash it grew louder, and Indians became shorthand for a system thought to be broken.
The same dynamic is visible in Australia. Senator Jacinta Nampijinpa Price claimed on ABC television that the government was deliberately prioritising Indian migrants, sparking outrage and a defence from her colleagues. The reality is that migration policy is a blunt instrument shaped by numbers, but once specific communities are named, the argument shifts from policy to people. That is when scapegoating flourishes.
The challenge for the Indian community is to rethink its own language. To stop wearing “Indian-origin” as the first descriptor in every headline. To stop listing contributions as though they were arguments in a trial. The defence is not wrong, Indians do succeed at extraordinary rates, but it is self-defeating. It sets up a cycle where belonging is never assumed, always earned. Instead, the language must shift to shared citizenship. Indians in Australia, America, Canada or Britain are not “Indian-origin citizens.” They are citizens. Period. Their heritage is real, but it is no more or less relevant than that of Irish, Italian or Anglo-Celtic Australians.
This requires a change in how Indian media tells stories. Stop framing every appointment as an “Indian-origin breakthrough.” Celebrate achievements, yes, but without the hyphen that marks people as permanent migrants. This is not a call to forget roots. It is a call to refuse outsider status. Indian migration is not new. Hawkers like Monga Khan were walking Australian towns more than a century ago. Indians have been part of America’s labour markets and Britain’s politics for generations. What is new is the scale of visibility, sharpened by social media and global politics.
That visibility is not going away. Another migration debate is coming in Australia. In the United States, the Trump presidency has already put H-1B visas back in the firing line, with MAGA voices portraying Indians as displacers of American workers. Trade deals with India are likely to be reduced to bargaining chips over visas, as commentators like Laura Ingraham have warned.
Each of these moments risks pulling the conversation into caricature: critics casting Indians as invaders, defenders responding with tax receipts and success stories. The community deserves better. It needs a narrative that does not begin every story with “Indian-origin,” does not measure belonging in balance sheets, and does not fall into the exhausting cycle of proving worth at every turn.
Belonging is not conditional. It is not earned by patents, degrees, or cricket matches won. It is lived, daily, by millions of Indians abroad who pay mortgages, volunteer at schools, run small businesses, and raise families. That ordinariness is the strongest argument of all. Charlie Kirk can rail about visas. Laura Ingraham can sneer about trade deals. Their words matter less than how Indians themselves respond. Pride in heritage is natural. But repeating “Indian-origin” endlessly risks keeping communities outside the circle they already belong to. It is time to retire the hyphen.
Support independent community journalism. Support The Indian Sun.
Follow The Indian Sun on X | Instagram | Facebook
Support Independent Community Journalism
Dear Reader,The Indian Sun exists for one reason: to tell stories that might otherwise go unheard.
We report on local councils, state politics, small businesses and cultural festivals. We focus on the Indian diaspora and the wider multicultural community with care, balance and accountability. We publish in print and online, send regular newsletters and produce video content. We also run media training programs to help community organisations share their own stories.
We operate independently.
Community journalism does not have the backing of large media corporations. Advertising revenue fluctuates. Platform algorithms change. Costs continue to rise. Yet the need for credible, grounded reporting in a multicultural Australia has never been greater.
When you support The Indian Sun, you support:
• Independent reporting on issues affecting migrant communities
• Coverage of local and state decisions that shape daily life
• A platform for small businesses and community groups
• Media training that builds skills within the community
• Journalism accountable to readers
We cannot cover everything, but we work to cover what matters.
If you value thoughtful reporting that reflects Australia’s diversity, we invite you to contribute. Every donation helps us maintain the quality and consistency of our work.
Please consider making a contribution today.
Thank you for your support.
The Indian Sun Team
