When Donald Trump lit a brass lamp in the White House on 21 October to mark Diwali, the gesture was meant to be symbolic: light over darkness, inclusion over division. Instead, it triggered an inferno of online rage. MAGA influencers called it “idol worship,” while others went further, labelling it “pagan worship” or a “pagan celebration,” warning that the White House was courting divine displeasure. Right-wing podcaster Nicholas J. Fuentes declared that “this administration is a joke,” and comment sections erupted with venom. “Go back to your sand gods,” read one reply under the official video.
The irony was sharp. The same movement that once courted Indian-American votes now mocked their culture as foreign contamination. Analysts at the Center for the Study of Organised Hate tracked a fivefold surge in anti-Indian posts on X during October, with slurs and conspiracy threads dominating trending feeds. Accounts like Codex India, styling itself as “White Anglo Atheist”, shared photos of fireworks-littered streets in Delhi captioned “authentic Diwali filth”, drawing thousands of likes.
Even a list of Indian CEOs at the ceremony became ammunition. “All four companies hire foreigners over Americans,” wrote Stephen “Yellow Dart” Schutt, naming Adobe’s Shantanu Narayen and Micron’s Sanjay Mehrotra among others. One post sneered, “1.6 per cent of Americans are Indian. Why celebrate random religions irrelevant to this nation?”
For Indian-Americans, the hostility was not new but newly legitimised. Hate that once lurked on anonymous forums now flowed from verified accounts. Stop AAPI Hate reported a 40 per cent rise in verbal assaults against Indians since January, fuelled by job anxiety, political tribalism and algorithmic outrage. A Californian family’s home, decorated with diyas, was pelted with eggs the night of the festival.
Yet the same feed that carried bile also carried defiance. One user wrote, “MAGA backlash erupts against Trump’s FBI Director over Diwali post—reaping what you sow.” Another reminded followers that “Hindu, Sikh and Jain festivals have been celebrated in the US military for years.” Between vitriol and wit, the diaspora learned an uncomfortable truth: hate thrives on reaction. Silence concedes space, but argument often feeds the fire.
Shadows Across the Suburbs in Australia
Australia’s version of the backlash unfolded both online and on the streets. Under a simple Facebook post wishing the community Happy Diwali, the comments revealed how easily civility unravels.
“Celebrate Australia Day.”
“Photo opportunity.”
“Get out. Stay in India, help rebuild your country.”
“Disgusting little India. The western suburbs are finished.”
For Indian-Australians who thought of themselves as settled, such replies cut deep. The posts were attached to photos of families in saris and kurta, children holding sparklers in front yards. The joy looked ordinary; the hatred beneath it did not.
Rallies in Melbourne and Sydney on 31 August and 19 October drew anti-migration protesters echoing the anger of earlier decades. The August event, larger and more heated than the October one, prompted a strong counter-response from the Unite Against Racism group. Police intervened as tensions rose between the two sides.
The resentment centred on housing costs, wage stagnation and migration numbers, which became shorthand for a wider sense of anxiety. Far-right groups reframed Indians, who make up about three per cent of the population yet are prominent in health and technology, as cultural interlopers. Commenters complained about “little Indias” taking over suburbs.
A user named Maahi Maahi replied to the thread on The Indian Sun’s Facebook Page, laughing at the irony: “People making racist remarks here forget they’re also immigrants. Having a good heart is rare. Stay chill.” Her tone was part humour, part exhaustion. Many Indians now use humour as armour, the easiest way to deflect bile without feeding it.
But beneath the jokes lies a generational dilemma. What do you tell your children when they ask why people online hate Diwali? Do you shield them from the comments or teach them to read them critically? For many parents, the answer changes daily. Some have stopped engaging altogether; others use the moments as lessons. “We tell our daughter that light is not always welcome where there is shadow,” said a Melbourne mother at a Diwali celebration. “She must still light her lamp.”
Towards The Light
So how should one live through this cycle, debate, ignore or wait it out? Each strategy has its cost. Debate dignifies bigotry with attention. Ignoring it risks normalising silence. Waiting assumes fatigue will end hatred, yet history shows prejudice can outlast reason. The most effective response, community leaders suggest, lies somewhere quieter: live visibly, confidently and refuse the narrative of conditional belonging.
When hatred peaks, ordinary decency becomes a political act. Continue to host open Diwali nights, invite neighbours, volunteer, donate, teach. Do not centre the bigots in every conversation. As one Sydney student put it, “They want us to feel foreign. Our calmness denies them that victory.”
At the same time, institutions must confront their responsibilities. Social platforms like X cannot hide behind “free speech” while algorithms reward racial abuse. Governments, too, must treat anti-Indian sentiment as part of a wider pattern of anti-Asian racism, not an isolated flare-up. Australia’s multicultural model depends on enforcement as much as celebration; words of inclusion mean little without action against harassment.
Inside homes, conversations are shifting. Parents explain racism not as a wound but as a mirror, showing more about the hater than the hated. Children raised on multiple identities learn to navigate dissonance early: one lunchbox curry, one citizenship pledge, two homes in one heart. It is tiring, but it breeds empathy.
Despite the noise, Diwali this year still lit streets from Parramatta to Pennsylvania. Eco-friendly lanterns glowed on Blacktown balconies, and London temples hosted interfaith feasts. A Muslim neighbour helped hang lights, a Christian filmed the fireworks, and an atheist lent a hand. Across continents, small gestures reclaimed the story from trolls and talkback.
Being Indian in the West today is an act of balance: pride without provocation, tolerance without timidity. It is understanding that identity can attract envy, yet refusing to shrink from it. The abuse under a Facebook post, the sneer of a stranger on X—these are sparks in the wind. They sting, but they also illuminate who we are becoming.
For all the noise, the truth remains unchanged. The lamp Trump lit, the diyas on Australian porches, the candles in Canadian temples all speak the same language of endurance. Hate is loud, but light is persistent. And sometimes, teaching your child to strike a match without fear is the most radical act of all.
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