In a world where being Hindu is seen as antithetical to being enlightened, progressive, and modern; where being Hindu is equated with Hindutva, it is not easy addressing the Hindu-American identity.
Born and brought up in America, I didn’t think of myself as Hindu for a long time. Whateverreligious or spiritual tendencies I had during my childhood and early teenage years were aligned more withChristian thought than Hindu ideas. That may sound strange, but given my circumstances of being anIndian-American born Hindu, it was not really so surprising.
Most of my childhood friends were Christian, and I was interested in visiting their churches, where I wasalways welcomed with warmth and openness. I enjoyed learning about the religion, from discussions withfriends, from various attempts at reading the eloquent and inspiring language of the Bible, from the televisedbiographies of J.C. My family celebrates with relish the material and spiritual aspects of Christmas, andthough we never worshipped Christ per se, I still feel closer to God during the holidays. There is a subtlebut powerful Christian ethos that pervades America, and to this day, it draws rather than alienates me.
And so it was that when I first turned to God at the tender age of twelve, when I first tried toanswer the burgeoning questions of the meaning of existence and the presence of the supernatural, myunderstanding was filtered through the framework of the Christianity that had seeped into me from mysurroundings.
After all, I was vastly ignorant about Hinduism. While my parents held onto their faith, they refrainedfrom imposing it on my brother or me. Certainly, a few times a year, we would troop over to faraway suburbanhigh schools for Durga Puja and the like, but those celebrations had more to do with the socializing of theChicago Bengali community, with eating and complaining about the poor quality of catered Indian food (whilechildren like me demanded and received pizza), than it did with devotion to the goddess. We visited the localtemples once in a blue moon and bowed down to deities whose names and religious significance I rarely knew.
In school, when there was a conscious effort of being multicultural, we spent perhaps fifteen or twentyminutes discussing world religions, wherein Hinduism was quickly depicted as a religion of hundreds of gods,many of whom had animal features, as an ancient faith ridden with social ills like caste and sati. I wasfamiliar with comic books on various avatars of Vishnu but approached them as myths rather than parables ofspiritual and philosophical truths.
So it was only natural that when I tried to make sense of my grandfather’s death, to understand, for thefirst time, who or what God was (if at all S/He existed), that my conceptions were of the Holy Trinity, of aneternal heaven and hell, of one life to live.
As it happened, there remained lingering questions in my untutored mind that were not satisfactorilyanswered by my limited, simplistic, and unrepresentative understanding of Christianity, or to be more precise,this vaguely Christian spirituality I had embraced. One day, my parents described to me the concept ofreincarnation. The fascination and curiosity it sparked led me to clamor for further explanation, which led toa summarization of the doctrine of karma. I was hooked.
It was the first step in a process that has led me through the writings of Swami Vivekananda, thetales of Krishna, the televised serializations of the Ramayana and the Mahabharata that I watched on videowith English subtitles, flirtations with hatha yoga and meditation, daily prayer (when I’m really good!),and much more. I began to see myself as a Hindu, because I began to understand the world through Hindu eyes,through the perspectives of karma, reincarnation, dharma, the various paths of yoga leading to moksha, and theadage that the truth is one and sages call it by different names.
Though I saw myself as a Hindu, for a long time, I did not call myself one. Frankly, it just didn’t soundgood. Being Christian conjured connotations of compassion and charity. Being Muslim meant in my mind being ofstrong faith, the fastest growing faith, a religion that though one of the world’s youngest, had in itshistory been one of power, empire, and global dominance. Being Buddhist evoked images of meditation and theesoteric realms of philosophy and enlightenment. But being Hindu - being Hindu suggested idolatry, a chaoticcollection of myths; it stood for caste and sati, for the subordination of Sita and all the women who followedher, for Brahmanic oppression and backwardness.
These were not trivial concerns. Public perceptions, grossly generalized or misconstrued though they maybe, matter. My mother worried over a college application essay where I called myself a devout Hindu. She wasafraid that this particular college with a strong Jesuit tradition would not approve. The college did rejectme, though I’m sure it had more to do with my class rank and less than stellar grades than my religiousaffiliation. But it was a fear that afflicted me nevertheless. I did not want to be associated with thenegative stereotypes of Hinduism, or to be considered a Hindu fanatic, since Hindutva was becoming synonymouswith Hindu in the parlance of academia and popular media.
Moreover, I did not want to call myself Hindu because there were no others around me proclaiming themselvesas Hindu either. There were no chaplains representing the Hindu faith in the universities I attended. Thoughthere were student associations for most other religions, hardly any existed for Hindus. When I tried to startone up, I faced suspicion that it was a façade for Sangh politics. There has been an emphasized divorcebetween religion and cultural identity when it comes to South Asian student groups. This is acceptable whenpeople of other faiths have Muslim or Christian student associations to nurture their religious needs, butHindus often have no such outlets.
Not only is there a paucity of classes dealing with Hinduism at the college level, but the attitudes ofSouth Asian professors are sometimes problematic. It seems that a number of these professors are so embeddedin Indian or South Asian politics that they do not distinguish, as they should, between the pursuit of a Hinduidentity in India and the creation of one in America. They tend to be hostile to the idea of Hindu studentgroups or Hindu identity-formation in the U.S. While a consciously Hindu identity may antagonize and alienateminorities in India, the same dangers are not present here. It is rather ridiculous to imagine that thefascist environment these scholars accuse a Hindu identity of fostering in India will be replicated inAmerica, where Hindus are a political and religious minority. In fact, the development of a Hindu-Americancommunity could be a counterweight to the extremist politics, or "Yankee Hindutva," that many of thesescholars condemn.
Another source of frustration has been the nominally Hindu-American groups I sometimes joined. I saynominally Hindu-American because these groups tend to focus more on Indian politics than American issues.Involvement with these groups led me to feel more Indian but usually less Hindu. While I do feel that AmericanHindus should take an interest in some of these Indian issues as they have global ramifications, these issuesshould be secondary to American concerns. As the generations pass, the links with India will prove more andmore tenuous, while the links with Hinduism will hopefully remain as strong if not stronger. Furthermore,there are many Hindus of non-Indian descent who also seek a Hindu community to which they can belong, in whichthey have a voice. Unfortunately, today, such a community and unified voice do not exist, though one may soonemerge.
These are some of the frustrations that I and others like me have faced and continue to face as Hindus inAmerica. The Hindu-American community needs to take responsibility for the fate of our religion in ourcountry. It is only through our efforts that the opportunities and resources can be provided for interestedindividuals to engage with Hinduism in its spiritual, philosophical, intellectual, and cultural dimensions.The first step in paving this path, I believe, is the conscious formation of a Hindu-American community andidentity.
Can we develop a community and forge an identity that brings American Hindus together, bridginggeographical, political, and class divisions, and represent our concerns and needs as adherents to a religionthat has no institutional or centralized structure, that is more a collection of faiths than an overarchingsystem of beliefs, with a name given by foreigners as a geopolitical designation rather than a spiritual one,a Hinduism that has yet to be satisfactorily defined?
I think we have to at least try. I think we have to try, because we have more to gain than we may have tolose, because though it may be a dangerous path to go down, it still presents less dangers than the otherpaths before us, because Hinduism has a lot to offer us, and we, as Hindus in a global village reinterpreting,readapting, and reforming our faith, have a lot to offer it.
When I urge the adoption of a Hindu identity for self-designated Hindus living in America, I am notadvocating for the expression of Hindu pride or for the simple labeling of oneself as Hindu. Identity issomething richer and more nuanced than a fixed label with static meaning and content. It is a process ofengagement, of self-searching, of questioning and viewing through a particular lens or perspective. Just asthere is no monolithic thing as an Indian-American, there is no monolithic Hindu-American. This process ofidentity formation is the continuous asking of what does it mean to be Hindu? How am I Hindu and how am I not?It is the process of questioning that is important, not the answer that is rarely, if ever, found.
One of the difficulties of engaging with Hinduism in America is that we live in a predominantly non-Hindusetting. It is easier to practice Hinduism in India, where the culture and the religion have become sointertwined, where Dussehra merits a holiday, where interpretations of the epics have been shown on wildlypopular TV serials, where grandparents share the stories of the Puranas with children, where the resources forlearning about the religion are more readily available than they are here. There is a subtle yet powerfulHindu ethos in India that is absent in America. Immersion in the ethos of Hinduism, of course, does not aHindu make, but it does facilitate engagement with the religious aspects of the tradition if one so chooses.
To learn about Hinduism in America, on the other hand, one has to be particularly proactive and wadethrough often inaccurate and biased scholarly work before arriving at balanced and authoritative texts. Templepriests are often so removed from the realities of the American experience that they end up turning offcurious visitors rather than presenting the tenets of the faith in an accessible and attractive manner. Add tothis the negative stereotypes prevalent about the religion and its poor representation within popular cultureand the general media, and it is not at all surprising that the Hindu-American identity if present at all isweak.
The result is that very few Hindus in America think of themselves as being Hindu. One may very well ask, sowhat? Why does this matter? Why is it something we should, as a community, expend energy and resources intrying to change?
Some fear that adopting a Hindu-American identity would threaten an Indian-American identity or aSouth-Asian-American one. That fear reflects a misunderstanding of the interplay between identities.Identities do not have to compete with each other. Wouldn’t it actually be better to separate being Indianfrom being Hindu rather than conflating the two as some try to do? Cannot an Indian-American Muslim have twoidentities, one as an Indian-American and one as a Muslim-American? Indeed, I know of many Indian-AmericanMuslims who are equally active in South Asian groups as they are in Muslim organizations. One identity doesnot have to supercede or substitute for another.
A Hindu-American identity may lead to more engagement with the spiritual aspects of Hinduism, and I thinkthat could be a good thing. Religion and spirituality do not always go hand in hand, but I do believe thatreligion can often serve as a path leading to spirituality. If I were born a Christian, Muslim, Jew, orBuddhist, chances are that I would be as devout a Christian, Muslim, Jew, or Buddhist as I am a Hindu. Thoughthe religions may differ vastly in their tenets, I think each of them would have helped me become morespiritual as Hinduism has. Through Hinduism’s development of the sciences of yoga and meditation, and thevast stores of wisdom and profound thought revealed in its scriptures, the tradition offers those who seek tounderstand it one possible avenue towards enlightenment and spiritual, emotional, and physical wellbeing.
Even discounting the spiritual value of Hinduism, greater awareness of the religion within theHindu-American community is critical for its development in the intellectual and political realms.Misrepresentation of Hinduism occurs to a depressingly large extent within popular media and culture today.Local bookstores carry more texts on the sexual aspects of Tantra and Hare Krishna cults than they do on theUpanishads or the epics. Understanding of Hinduism in the U.S. today is filtered through the portrayal of Apuon "The Simpsons" or a few glossy pages from textbooks exoticizing many aspects of the faith. More isknown in mainstream American society about caste, dowry, and cow worship than is known about the underlyingphilosophical concepts of Hinduism.
We cannot blame others for our own failings. The reason why Hindus are so poorly represented in campuses,in the media, and in society is because we do not demand or provide anything better. If academics perceivegreater demand for balanced and thoughtful scholarship on Hinduism, the supply of such scholarship willincrease. Unless Hindus take up the responsibility of learning about their religious background,characterizations of the religion as one primarily concerned with caste hierarchy, subordination of women,primitive rituals, and myths fraught with Freudian sexual undertones, will self-perpetuate. Of course, freedomof thought and expression should be encouraged in academia, but more conscious reflection on the part ofHindus and non-Hindus alike about the religion may augment the diversity of ideas reflected in Americanscholarship on Hinduism. Unless Hindus begin to think of themselves as Hindu, there will be little communitymomentum for creating a stronger, more balanced Hindu presence in academia, campuses, the media, and societyat large.
Furthermore, a better understanding of Hinduism can generate knowledge valuable to American society and theworld in general. Consider how the renewed interest in yoga (as yoga is understood in America today) hascontributed to the wellbeing of many Hindus and non-Hindus alike. Consider current research demonstrating thebenefits of regular meditation to mental and physical health. Consider the growing adoption of a holisticapproach to medicine as embodied in Ayurvedic science.
Precisely because Hinduism has no internal institutional structure, it is susceptible to politicized andcontested definition. Hinduism is being defined today by many thinkers hailing from the fringe extremes of theideological spectrum, particularly in the arena of Indian politics, leading to increasingly polarized anduntenable conceptualizations of the faith. Much as a moderate Muslim majority is needed to win the ideologicalwar against terrorism, a moderate Hindu majority is needed as a counterpoint to the battle between the extremeversions of Hinduism being peddled today. A strong and growing Hindu-American community can help bring thedebate over defining and portraying Hinduism to the center.
I want a world where I can be a proud Hindu without the term connoting visions of religious fanaticism orHindutva nationalism. I want a world where Hindus take up the battle against today’s social ills, such asthe current caste system and patriarchal notions, recognizing that true Hinduism abhors such bigotry. I want aworld where my daughter can write proudly that she’s a Hindu in a college application without fearing she’llbe rejected for it.
But this world will never come to be unless there’s a revival of awareness about Hinduism among bothHindus and non-Hindus. This world will not come to be unless Hindus take the initiative of learning abouttheir faith and proactively engage with and reform the practice of our religion. As American Hindus, we havethe resources and influence to play a central role in the evolution of Hinduism in its cultural, spiritual,intellectual, and political dimensions.
Some may say that I am trying to publicize and politicize what should remain personal and sacred, that I amtoo self-consciously Hindu, that I am trying a little too hard, that I want it a bit too badly. Perhaps theyare right; perhaps I am insecure about being Hindu, defensive about it, protective of my religious identity.But in a world where being Hindu is seen as antithetical to being enlightened, progressive, and modern; wherebeing Hindu is equated with Hindutva; where to really learn about the religion I had to unlearn everything Iwas taught about it in school; where Hindus know less about their own religion than they do about others;where those who most strenuously proclaim themselves as Hindu are often the least Hindu of all; where Hinduismhas become separated from humanism; what other choice do I have?
Aditi Banerjee is currently a student at Yale Law School. Along with her interests in international law andforeign policy, she is also drawn to issues related to Hinduism and the Indian diaspora.