Representative Image / iStock

In preschool, my dad and I did something unusual the evening before any Hindu festival. I would sit on his lap in his home office as we looked for coloring pages of traditional Hindu cultural symbols to print out, like diyas. Afterward, we would drive to the closest Indian store to buy Mithai—Indian sweets. While my classmates eagerly anticipated Christmas, Chanukah, and Easter, the concept of Hindu festivals, like Diwali or Holi, was alien to them in my small town in Western Massachusetts. So, we would bring coloring pages and treats to my school to bridge the cultural gap. This was my dad's way of sharing our culture and making me proud of it despite being one of the few Indian families in my preschool.

I wasn't used to seeing many people who looked like me outside of my family. The TV shows I watched had few South Asian characters, and they were often depicted with exaggerated accents and shallow stereotypes. Ravi Ross, a character from the popular Disney show Jessie, exemplified this trend. Despite being raised in the U.S., Ravi sported a thick Indian accent, was exceptionally intelligent, abysmal at sports, and perpetually friendless. It was shocking to hear Karan Brar, the actor who portrayed Ravi, speak without an accent in real life, much like I do.

I very clearly remember when South Asian culture and people were outside the purview of mainstream American life. But, fast forward to the end of my K-12 experience, and that has changed.

Now, in high school, one of my favorite shows has been the Netflix original Never Have I Ever, where the main character Devi Vishwakumar—an Indian American— has no accent or clichéd stereotypes. The show doesn't hide her Indianness either. The first scene in the series is a moment of spiritual depth as she prays to the Hindu Gods for thinner arm hair and a boyfriend. Her Indian and Hindu identity is part of her character but not her defining feature. Devi is incredibly bright, the valedictorian of her high school, but she also navigates parties and dates the most popular guy in school. Even more exciting was that my friends, not just my South Asian ones, were binging "Never Have I Ever" like any other popular show. Comedians like Hasan Minhaj have garnered wide popularity, across races, while still infusing South Asian culture into their sets. This change isn't limited to just media representation, either. 

I have seen a "Happy Diwali" sign standing proudly on my town commons in Eastern MA. My school district now takes a day off for Diwali just like they do for Yom Kippur and Good Friday, and my community's annual Summer Concert Series even includes a Bollywood band. Popular Hindi songs were even played at my school’s homecoming this year. 

To many, this is completely normal. A lot of Americans are used to seeing "Merry Christmas" signs everywhere, having a day off for Christmas, and having country bands play isn't unusual. To me, an Indian American teenager who once thought she was weird for having friends and no accent, this cultural recognition is extraordinary. Although it seems trivial, having my teachers wish me happy Diwali and the ability to purchase a Diwali-themed Starbucks gift card makes me feel like my heritage’s holiday is as important as Christmas. I can now even buy a Hallmark Diwali Card.

As I have gotten older, I have become more aware of the racism, subtitle microaggressions, and cultural insensitivity that still exist. In the past few weeks, there’s been even more hatred towards Muslim and Jewish Americans. And, I am disgusted by all of it, but I am not hopeless.

I remember how different I used to feel when I was in kindergarten. I would always refer to myself as an Indian. My dad constantly reminded me that I am of Indian heritage, but I am an American. Still, whenever someone asked what I was, I said Indian. My five-year-old self didn't feel American. That's not the case anymore. I  now proudly say that I am an American of Indian Heritage. I feel more American now than I did 14 years ago. 

From the time I was in kindergarten to now as a senior in high school, I've witnessed undeniable signs of change locally and nationally. Last month, the US House of Representatives session started with a Sikh prayer. This year marks New York City's first declaration of Diwali as a public school holiday. There is a proud "Samosa Caucus" in the US House of Representatives, a term that would have once been considered derogatory. On top of all that, there are two candidates of Indian heritage running for the Republican nomination who aren't viewing their Indianness as a barrier. 

A few weeks ago, during a study hall in school, my friends and I reminisced about what it was like being one the few Indian-American kids at our respective elementary schools. However, now, witnessing Indian-American characters on television and seeing the recognition of South Asian culture outside our homes excites us. We are grateful knowing that the younger South Asian-American students in the grades below us won't experience as much outsiderness as we once did.

Tomorrow, my favorite Hindu holiday, Diwali, will be celebrated around the world. In many ways, it is a celebration of hope. In my short lifetime, I have seen the rise in mainstream appreciation and acceptance of South Asian culture, which fills me with exactly that— hope.