By the 1990s, a large Indian diaspora had put down roots across the country. The Immigration Act of 1990 and its central provision — creating the H-1B visa program for skilled temporary workers — was hugely important in establishing a younger generation of South Asians in the United States. Of those who lived in New York City and in New Jersey, some found community in more traditional sites; others, especially younger queer folks, sought out organizations, nightlife spaces, and kindred spirits that would allow them to be their full selves. Generational and gendered tensions combined to create real anxieties amongst older South Asian immigrants that their children — many of whom were queer, radical, and dissatisfied with the status quo of Desi identity — were slipping beyond familiar, traditional roles.
“When I asked SALGA members about what they found ‘political’ in their organization’s work, without fail they referred to the summer activities building up to the annual parade protest. Parades symbolically reproduce the nation and provide spectacular sites for the constitution and consumption of national identities. At the India Day Parade, SALGA and its progressive allies challenge the fascinating nesting of U.S. and Indian nationalisms that are defined through the construction of normative and deviant sexualities.” (Monisha Das Gupta in Unruly Immigrants, p.185)
The India Day Parade, as described by its organizing body, the Federation of Indian Associations (FIA), is an annual gathering of the diaspora. Bringing together celebrities, dignitaries, community groups, artists, and performers, it is the largest yearly gathering of its kind outside of India. Its stated mission is to celebrate the coming together of Indo-America and Indian immigrants, centering and celebrating Indian culture. In the past decade, it has also been an event that reinforces Hindu nationalism, and supports a more narrow vision of what it means to be "Indian."
Since its founding, the India Day Parade has served as a mirror for the factions and politics of the members of the diaspora who participate in it. In the 1990s, when a desire for a visable "Indian-ness" felt urgent, politicians, business owners, and community leaders — at least certain types — were welcomed and celebrated at the Parade. But who was excluded? Why were they left on the margins of a space meant to “gather the diaspora”? And perhaps the most nagging question: Why would young, queer activists and organizers who understood the nationalist, sexist, and homophobic characteristics of the Parade still want to participate in it?
For the purpose of this project, I focus specifically on moments between 1992 and 2001, when SALGA was denied the right to march in the India Day Parade by the FIA. Motivated to maintain the mainstream image of “Indian” identity, the FIA claimed that (1) the more expansive “South Asian” scope of SALGA fell beyond the scope of “India.” This argument, frequently employed by right-wing Hindu nationalists, is inherently islamophobic, meant to exclude non-Hindu and non-Indian Desis who are equal consumers (and producers) of Indian culture in many circumstances.
The FIA also claimed that the values of the LGBTQ+ community did not align with their organizational values, and would as such not be an accurate representation of the Indian identity to an American audience. This excuse was extended beyond SALGA to deny other activist organizations fighting for marginalized groups, such as Sakhi for South Asian Women, an organization focusing on gender justice and gendered violence that was also denied the right to march.
As a result, the India Day Parade became not just a site of cultural narrowing by the organizers, but also, a site of cultural expansion, resistance, and reclamation by protests and organizers. Groups like YSS, SALGA, and SAKHI began to march in the Parade because it was a visable signifier to the organizers and participants: This is what it looks like to be Indian, too. And we aren't going anywhere.