In 2020, a little-known lawsuit filed in a California court sent shockwaves through Silicon Valley. The case involved a Dalit engineer at Cisco Systems who accused two upper-caste Indian supervisors of discrimination based on caste.
For many Americans, the word "caste" might bring to mind images of rural Indian villages or colonial-era hierarchies. However, for many South Asians, especially Dalits living in the United States, caste is not just history; it is a real experience.
The idea that caste could exist, and even thrive, in American institutions seems counterintuitive. The United States promotes the belief that merit comes from opportunity, celebrating diversity. Yet, caste operates through informal networks, language, religious groups, and tech ecosystems that assume a shared elite status.
For many upper-caste Indians in the diaspora, caste serves as an unspoken advantage that influences who gets hired, mentored, or included in influential circles. For Dalits, it can lead to alienation, invisibility, and the re-traumatization of histories they hoped to leave behind.
This article looks at how caste has moved, changed, and become a part of elite American institutions. Using high-profile cases, personal stories, and sociological studies, it argues that caste is not just a relic of the past; it is a dynamic and adaptable system of power.
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Get notified of top trending articles like this one every week! (we won't spam you)Caste on Campus: The Unspoken Curriculum
At Ivy League universities and top public colleges, South Asian student groups often create a sense of cultural unity. However, beneath the lively garba nights and Diwali galas, a clear caste divide exists. Dalit students often feel out of place in environments where casteist jokes, implicit Brahmin norms, and unspoken hierarchies are common.
A 2018 study by Equality Labs, a South Asian-American civil rights organization, found that one in three Dalit students in the U.S. experienced discrimination during their education. Additionally, two out of three felt unwelcome in spiritual or cultural organizations on campus.
When South Asian organizations are largely led by members of dominant castes, there is typically little room for meaningful discussions on caste privilege or even recognition that caste exists.
Certain practices may be subtle but are quite revealing. Surnames are examined for caste indicators, mother tongues like Telugu or Tamil are linked to subcaste origins, and connections from elite Indian institutions, which often only upper-caste individuals can access, serve as pathways into student leadership and academic mentorship.
For Dalit students, entering these elite spaces can lead to what sociologist Suraj Yengde describes as "caste trauma." This disconnection happens when the promise of an American education is undermined by the same hierarchies they believed they had escaped. Faculty representation is also lacking; across U.S. universities, there are almost no openly Dalit professors in South Asian Studies or Religious Studies departments, despite the growing academic focus on caste and anti-caste movements.
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The Silicon Valley Paradox
The Cisco case, now under appeal, was one of the first public admissions of caste discrimination in American tech. However, it is not an isolated incident. A survey by Equality Labs found that 67% of Dalits in the U.S. reported being treated unfairly at work, and nearly 60% experienced caste-based derogatory jokes or comments. Yet many tech firms, despite thorough diversity measurements for race and gender, do not track caste.
The contradiction here is striking. Many of these firms are led by Indian-origin executives who are celebrated as examples of success based on merit. Leaders like Sundar Pichai and Satya Nadella are seen as evidence that caste, class, or color no longer matter in the land of opportunity.
But the migration of upper-caste Indians to the U.S. did not eliminate caste privilege; it often reinforced it. The IIT-IIM pipeline, one of India’s most prestigious and historically upper-caste educational systems, has become a source of talent for top roles in global tech firms. These institutions, despite formal reservation systems in India, continue to be dominated by Brahmin and other forward-caste students.
In private Slack channels, team lunches, and hiring committees, caste markers resurface—not through overt exclusion, but through personal bias. Shared temple attendance, family connections, or caste-based matrimonial networks influence who gets included in professional circles. Even tech giants known for their progressive politics often fail to recognize caste because it is not officially tracked, leaving Dalit employees without legal options.
In 2023, Seattle became the first U.S. city to explicitly ban caste discrimination. This move was driven by Dalit activists and faced opposition from some Hindu nationalist groups. The backlash highlighted how deep-rooted caste denialism is among some members of the diaspora and how even naming caste is perceived as a threat to community unity.
Everyday Casteism in the Diaspora
Outside of campuses and corporations, caste also manifests in more intimate and cultural domains. Indian matrimonial websites routinely use caste as a sorting mechanism, with preferences for Brahmin, Kshatriya, or “other forward castes” still prominently displayed. Even in diaspora-focused platforms like Shaadi.com or Jeevansathi, caste remains a default filter, sometimes euphemized as “community.”
This reinforces the idea that caste is not merely a social system, but a mode of cultural reproduction. Caste endogamy (the practice of marrying within one's caste) is a central pillar of how caste survives across generations. In diaspora communities where inter-racial and inter-religious marriages are rising, caste endogamy is often fiercely defended, especially among upper-caste families who fear “dilution” of their lineage or culture.
Cultural representation also plays a role. Popular Netflix series like Indian Matchmaking present caste as a quaint, almost comic relic, never interrogating how it structures the lives of millions. Even diaspora celebrities who speak out on race and gender often remain silent on caste, reflecting both ignorance and the risks of alienating influential networks.
In many diaspora spaces, anti-caste discourse is equated with "airing dirty laundry" or disrupting community harmony. For Dalits and other caste-oppressed groups, this creates a double bind: to speak out is to risk ostracism; to remain silent is to accept the status quo.
Caste Is a Global Structure of Power
The persistence of caste abroad challenges the belief that migration is a form of freedom. It becomes clear that caste is not limited to South Asia. It is a power structure that adjusts to new environments, disguising itself in terms like "merit," "culture," or "community" depending on the situation.
This doesn't mean that all upper-caste individuals intentionally discriminate. Often, caste privilege operates unconsciously as an unexamined inheritance that blends with professional success or cultural capital. Because caste is so seldom recognized in diaspora spaces, its effects become harder to trace and more difficult to confront.
In the U.S., anti-caste activists are now advocating for structural recognition. They seek university policies that list caste as a protected category, workplace grievance procedures, and more representation of caste-oppressed voices in media, politics, and academia. The inclusion of caste in Harvard's non-discrimination policy in 2021 was a significant step, but overall awareness is still limited.
Toward a Transnational Anti-Caste Politics
The reproduction of caste in diaspora spaces reveals a broader lesson about identity and migration: inequity travels. Systems of power, even when unspoken, do not disappear when people cross borders; they reconstitute themselves through new forms of respectability, access, and exclusion.
If the 20th century was defined by racial and postcolonial critiques of power, the 21st must also grapple with caste as a global phenomenon. This requires not only institutional change, but also cultural courage from South Asian communities willing to confront their own complicities, and from broader institutions willing to recognize caste as a civil rights issue.
For too long, caste has been treated as a regional or historical curiosity. But to see caste only in the context of Indian politics is to miss how it shapes lives in classrooms in Massachusetts, in tech campuses in California, and in family WhatsApp groups across the diaspora.
Caste is not an Indian issue. It is a global one. And to dismantle it, we must first learn to see it, even where it pretends not to exist.
