Hindu Nationalism’s Growth Spurt: Why Caste Matters Here and Now
By Riya Suthar
This summer, I grew bitter gourd. What started out as a free seedling soon overtook my entire garden bed, its green tendrils coiling around anything it could reach. Suddenly, there were spiky gourds sprouting in-between okra, clinging around marigolds, and sprawling out onto the ground. Hindu nationalism grows like this.
Hindu nationalism (Hindutva) emerged in 19th century India to manufacture an image of unified national identity.[1] Emboldened by European fascism, the militant organization Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) rose to political prominence and birthed India’s right-wing BJP party. The ruling party’s Prime Minister Narendra Modi remains in close ties with the RSS under the unified goal of establishing a Hindu-first nation.
My oral histories with 2nd-generation South Asian immigrants exposed the growth of Hindutva in the U.S. I spoke with priya from the Bay Area, who reflected on their peers attending cultural education groups, or shakhas:
priya: “I always thought it was like…a Hinduism school… but it was only recently I learned that it was like, affiliated with the RSS [laughs], so I was like, oh this is just Hindu Nationalism propaganda…”
They were shocked to realize propaganda was spreading practically in their backyard. This past August, RSS leader Mohan Bhagwat rallied at Madison Square Garden in New York City under the guise of “celebrating oneness.” Among the backlash, Hindus for Human Rights Action co-founder Sunita Viswanath warned, “RSS affiliates, these Hindu right-wing organizations, exist in growing numbers in the diaspora, especially in America.”
Caste Supremacy Feeds Hindu Nationalism
Caste is a system of social hierarchy that ranks individuals based on inheritance and embodied virtue. Characteristically, vegetarianism signals moral purity at the top, while varying degrees of meat labor and consumption signify “pollution.” Currently, 20 out of 28 states in India regulate beef sales. Extremist groups protect exclusionary food identity through religious and caste violence. Cow vigilante mobs use law as a shield to patrol the streets, target, and lynch Muslim and Dalit civilians.
Even abroad, food is weaponized as a social marker to gatekeep national identity. From campus dorms to tech conglomerates, caste virtue in the U.S. is signaled through vegetarian belonging.[2] Caste-oppressed immigrants are ostracized for eating meat and face discrimination in employment and promotions.
Unified food practices in the diaspora are not coincidental or harmless habits, but a product of caste supremacy. Imagine Hindu nationalism as the unruly bitter gourd, and caste supremacy as fertilizer. The more supremacy is absorbed, the wider nationalism spreads, its tangled roots infecting all other life.
Identity Control
Being born and raised in the Bay Area immersed priya in Tamil-brahmin culture and community. They never worried about bringing a pungent lunch to school because their Indian classmates ate similar meals. But shared practices also came with unsolicited assumptions about identity:
priya: “…growing up in the Bay Area, where I was, it was savarna [oppressor-caste] majority and so, that’s why I think people assume I was vegetarian, right? ’Cause everybody else was! Or, most people were…It was not only the other Indian people who would assume I’m vegetarian, but the other Asian or Mexican people would too, and so, it didn’t become just a stereotype amongst Indian people but just kind of amongst everyone…”
Caste belonging does not shield priya from uncomfortable social dynamics. They recognize vegetarianism as a purity test for belonging to the majority. When peers from other cultures join the choir, these stereotypes morph into social expectations.
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When everyone around you is expected to have the same practices that come from the same place, what does it really mean to preserve identity?
priya: “I don’t really have much of a relationship to South Indian food and honestly don’t really know if I ever will… I think it does make me kind of sad sometimes, cause I do want kids someday and it’s like, I can’t really share that part of my culture with them. I think- this is kind of something that I have trouble with in general, is just trying to understand what my Tamil identity is, outside of the caste identity, and so, I’m always just wondering what can I even pass on in that way…what does Tamil culture even look like?”
When so much of South Indian food culture is intertwined with caste it seems impossible to sift through and extract; priya’s only option was to untangle themselves from it all. The tension between preserving nostalgia and resisting oneness beckons priya’s question: what does food culture look like without caste purity?
Uprooting Purity
Hindutva’s creeping influence doesn’t stop at the Indian diaspora. Omaer is a Pakistani-Punjabi Muslim from western Maryland. In our conversation, Omaer details his experiences being raised in rural Appalachia. Growing up eating family dinners, rice, dal, and sabzi [vegetable dish] were accessible staples. Omaer’s family had to travel two hours away to purchase meat, so it was often rationed and consumed like a delicacy.
Compared to priya, he describes living in “identity isolation.” In school he recalls one other South Asian classmate who was Indian and vegetarian, so of course, others assumed he was too. Now “living identity” as an adult, Omaer is reclaiming Pakistani-Punjabi foodways:
Omaer: “I find myself like, so much [prouder] of the food that I eat, in a way, cause I’m like, halal is one thing, and I still refuse to eat pork, but like, I will gladly and proudly eat meat. I will gladly and proudly consume vegetables. And I will do it all in front of your face, without any regard…you cannot sit in front of me while we’re having a meal and like, be uncomfortable with the fact that I have a piece of beef on my plate, and in fact, I would implore you to try it.”
Omaer does not shrink his cultural practices to protect caste pride. He goes so far as to challenge vegetarians not only to share a sensory experience but to unpack the meaning of inherited purity, no matter the discomfort.
Reclaiming meat practices has long been a method of resisting the violent boundaries of caste purity. Dalits have historically been forbidden from eating the food of caste oppressors.[3] Now, cooking with meat scraps is an assertion of resistance, dignity, and perseverance.
Omaer proudly reclaims his food identity and refuses to assimilate or be cast to Hindutva’s margins.
Sowing Seeds of Justice
The best way to honor our lineage is to transform our foodways into responsible practices. It’s not enough to celebrate food traditions; we must also question what agenda they serve. Omaer and priya know what lies hidden beneath vegetarian messaging and assumptions of belonging. It’s not pride but control.
The rise in right-wing Hindu nationalism alerts a collective call for resistance. For South Asians in the U.S., this moment urges us to question our food choices. If we control the food narratives here, we have an obligation to shut off the nozzle of caste supremacy and yank the roots of Hindutva. When we sow the seeds for a just world where food is shared, not divided, only then may nationalism decay.
References
[1] From Bhatt, C., & Mukta, P. (2000). Hindutva in the West: mapping the antinomies of diaspora nationalism. Ethnic and Racial Studies, 23(3), 407–441. https://doi.org/10.1080/014198700328935
[2] From Zare, B., Pathania, G., & Shajahan, M. (2025). Invisibility of caste in everyday campus life: Indian American students and their understanding of privilege. Social Identities, 31(4), 459–475. https://doi.org/10.1080/13504630.2025.2460702
[3] From Das, K., Das, S. S., & Sahana, D. (2025). Tasting caste: Dalit foodways, gendered labor, and resistance in Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada. Journal for Cultural Research, 29(4), 691– 710. https://doi.org/10.1080/14797585.2025.2557880
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Riya Suthar is a graduate researcher in the MA SORP program at American University. They use intentional language (decapitalizing “brahmin,” “caste-oppressor” instead of “upper-caste”) in this blog to center anti-caste storytelling.
