“How India’s Children Became America’s Cowards”

In the halls of Congress, the Muslim presence is unapologetic and unrestrained. Ilhan Omar, Rashida Tlaib, André Carson, Lateefah Simon—they enter every debate declaring “I am Muslim,” as though announcing their faith is their mandate. They accuse the United States of hypocrisy, denounce Israel, decry Islamophobia and take ownership of every foreign policy question involving Muslim lands. Their identity is not a footnote; it is the headline. They do not stumble over disclaimers, they do not hedge. Their fights are fought on the terrain of belief, and they wield their faith as a political weapon.

Contrast that with the Indian-American presence: Ami Bera, Pramila Jayapal, Ro Khanna, Raja Krishnamoorthi, Shri Thanedar, Suhas Subramanyam. Born of Hindu families, rooted in the world’s most ancient majority-religion civilization, yet in Congress their identity vanishes. They speak of health care, infrastructure, child tax credits, voting rights—as if those were the only permissible causes. When India itself is attacked, when Hindu interests are ridiculed or ignored, they murmur about diplomacy or human rights. They do not shout, they whisper; they do not frame an issue as civilizational defense, but as a “dialogue,” “mutual respect,” or “pluralism.”

What is happening here is not subtle; it is shame. Muslim legislators treat identity as sacred ground—you do not negotiate it. You do not apologize for it. You do not bury it in progressive boilerplate. They boldly connect U.S. policy in Gaza, Palestine, Kashmir, Rohingya, or Syria to their own faith and community. They hold America accountable for the way it treats Muslims at home and abroad. They frame every injustice against Muslims—even in America—as part of the same struggle, and demand that Washington respond. Their opponents call them “radical,” “partisan,” “unAmerican.” They wear those labels proudly, knowing they galvanize their base.

Indian legislators, by contrast, behave as if to admit Hindu identity would be a political death sentence. They shrink from even uttering the word “Hindu.” If you listen carefully, you hear them tiptoe around India: “We should be careful not to insult religious minorities,” “we should urge restraint,” “we should support human rights.” They never say, “India has the right to defend its homeland. Hindu civilization matters.” They never frame a debate as “this is an attack on my people, on my faith, on my culture.”

This is cowardice disguised as tact. It is self-censorship of the highest order. While their Muslim colleagues use their creed as both shield and spear, Indian legislators adopt seculariness as armor. They bury identity under bureaucratic jargon and virtue signaling. And when Hindu or Indian interests are criticized—or worse, demonized—they are conspicuously silent or tepid. When the Indian consulate in San Francisco was targeted by arson, Ro Khanna issued a mild statement condemning “an attack on India.” But he did not cry “this is an assault on Hindu civilization,” nor did he connect it to a broader vindication of Indian dignity. Others followed in that spirit: respectful, private, nonconfrontational.

The difference is more than style. Muslim lawmakers understand that identity politics is power politics. If Muslim issues are never spoken of, they remain invisible. So they assert them everywhere. If Washington never treats them as central, they force it. If being Muslim is mocked, they make it central. Indian lawmakers, by contrast, act as though Hindu identity must be hidden rather than admitted. They believe that to speak openly is to alienate. They mistake consent for virtue, silence for respectability, restraint for moral high ground.

This disparity is not just theatrical — it has consequences. Muslim legislators’ forcefulness ensures that issues affecting Muslim Americans, Muslim countries, Islamophobia, and U.S. foreign policy in the Muslim world remain in the national conversation. They push resolutions, demand hearings, call out double standards, mobilize protests, and command media attention. Indian legislators, seldom willing to confront, have scarcely any clout when it comes to India or Hindu concerns. When Indian embassies are humiliated, Hindu temples desecrated, or Indian interests attacked, the Indian caucus maintains polite distance. The roar is absent.

What explains this discrepancy? At its root lies the psychology of disgrace. Indian-American politicians often inhabit white liberal spaces; they are coaches, professors, executives—and they internalize the rules of that space: moderation, assimilation, and avoidance of identity conflict. To speak as a Hindu would break the polite frame. They fear backlash, being tagged as sectarian, religious nationalist, bigoted. So they smother their identity behind universalism: human rights, pluralism, immigrant rights. That universalism sounds inclusive, but it is neutralizing. It erases specific allegiances and feigns transcendence when transcendence is the problem.

Muslim lawmakers, largely emerging from minority communities with a history of grievance and invisibility, have no stake in that white liberal silence. Their identity is never background; it is front and center. They carry their past — as immigrants, as colonized peoples, as survivors of discrimination — into that chamber and make it part of their mandate. They do not wait for permission to speak for Muslims; they assert that the minority must make itself heard.

In the struggle over language and power, silence is complicity. When Indian legislators refuse to defend Hindu or Indian identity, those interests go undefended. When they adopt timid rhetoric, they forfeit moral ground. Meanwhile, their Muslim colleagues seize that ground, declare their creed as cause, and mobilize every word as power. The result is that the voice of Islam reverberates in the corridors of power, while the name “Hindu” remains almost a whisper in Congressional debate.

When the Muslim voice roars, the Indian voice withers. That contrast is not accidental, it is a choice. And in that choice lies the tragic discrediting of Hindu identity in American politics.