It’s Diwali season, and for much of Australia’s South Asian community, this year’s celebrations feel heavier, brighter, and — honestly — more radical than usual.
When your identity is debated in the streets and your belonging is questioned on the news, coming together to celebrate something so joyfully, so publicly, becomes an act of quiet protest and hope.
Racism against South Asians is on the rise
Across the country, anti-South Asian racism has become harder to ignore. The so-called “March for Australia” protests, organised by far-right groups this August, handed out leaflets targeting Indian and South Asian migrants. Insults once buried in comment sections have spilled into streets and train stations, and the fear that followed hasn’t quite lifted.
“I remember when it was first happening, there’s literally a video in my drafts of me just crying for two minutes,” content creator Muskan Sharma told PEDESTRIAN.TV. “I couldn’t — I just don’t understand why people hate us so much.”
Rajas Satija from Dharma Down Under (DDU), non-profit organisation in Australia that connects young people with Dharmic traditions, said his team cancelled a cultural celebration this August for safety: “We actually had to cancel an event of ours, because it was on the 31st… the decision was made due to the safety of the community.”
He described an incident that led to that call: “A man approached me outside my hotel, asked where I was from, and told me, ‘You don’t belong here’. He only stopped me because I was brown… If this is the kind of people attending, then I don’t want people wearing traditional clothes on a train where you have hundreds of protesters.”
At the Australian South Asian Centre, co-founder Daizy Maan said the unease was unlike anything they’d seen before. “So many of our members reached out and let us know that they didn’t feel safe to come to an event that we were hosting, that happened to fall on the same day as the rallies,” she said.
“In five years of running this organisation, that’s actually not happened before.”
As someone who spent that week watching the news cycle turn uglier by the day, I understood the instinct to shrink away. For weeks after the rally I couldn’t bring myself to take the tram without feeling panicy — unsure about what might happen or who amongst the passengers could have been a Nazi wanting me out of this country or worse.
What Diwali means when the hate gets loud
That fear has made Diwali feel different this year. The festival has always been about light and renewal, but in 2025, it’s become about visibility and belonging.
On a national level race discrimination commissioner, Giridharan Sivaraman told PEDESTRIAN.TV, “As Australia prepares to celebrate Diwali, a festival that embodies light triumphing over darkness, it is concerning to see a rise in anti-Asian racism at a time meant for unity and celebration. Racism in any form has no place in our nation.”
When I asked friends on Instagram what the celebration meant to them, their responses were more layered than nostalgic.
One friend told me it reflected “the duality of wanting joy and familiarity in Australia, but the recognition that back home, the myth of Ram has become a right wing figurehead”.
For another, it was a moment of connection: “Absolutely love hosting a multicultural gathering every year. It helps so much.”
Even outside the diaspora, the act of celebrating together matters. A non-South Asian teacher from Pimpama, shared that her children’s school “teamed up and hosted a Diwali festival… it was really nice seeing how the school communities worked with the South Asian families and community in the neighbourhood to come together and celebrate”.
For many, that togetherness is an act of reclamation. “I feel like it’s the one week where we’re not like crucified for just being loud and proud and obnoxious and just flamboyant with our culture,” Muskan said.
“Our culture is so flamboyant and so… rooted in maximalism. Usually, you have to completely whitewash it to be palatable in this country. So I feel like this is the one week where everyone’s like, ‘Okay, like it’s their week’.”
Muskan is organising a Diwali event this year that aims to make that belonging feel more accessible, not just for South Asians but for everyone willing to listen. “With my event series that I do around these cultural holidays, it’s always just to bridge that space for everybody,” she said.
“I think a lot of the racism comes because people just don’t know [something]… it’s better to isolate something and have a polarising view than to understand it.”
Of course not all South Asians celebrate Diwali, but the visibility from the celebration has the opportunity to help Desi’s around Australia.
“Diwali, for me, is about unity. The best way to combat hate is through love,” said Rajas.
Daizy agrees that joy itself is resistance. “This year feels like stepping into our cultural traditions and just owning it. Celebrating is a powerful form of resistance against people who say we don’t belong,” she said.
Her goal is to make space for joy and safety to co-exist. “Coming along to celebrations — just the way Christmas is something everyone can embrace — is important. I think some people get apprehensive about different cultural celebrations, but it’s about showing up, with enthusiasm, asking questions.”
Symbols are beautiful, but belonging takes work
This year, the Sydney Opera House once again glows with Diwali’s colours — a symbol of recognition that’s both powerful and insufficient. Festive lights mean less when belonging still feels conditional. Associate UNSW Professor Dr Sukhmani Khorana, a researcher in migration and anti-racism advocate, describes the mood as one of reclamation.
“There is this sense of pride as well as claiming belonging, what I call claiming belonging, in the face of all the South Asian hate,” she said.
“It’s not just online hate… it’s very much a case of people sort of having a sense of pride and wanting to claim their culture.”
But she’s critical of political lip service that stops at symbolism. “There is a need to consult more widely. There is a broader section of the diaspora which is not necessarily always represented… and I think the policy imperative of that is that if you don’t do it in a deeper way, you just have episodes like when there’s an economic crisis or an election, then these communities are the ones that get targeted.”
Commissioner Sivaraman said that “the Indian community has made immense contributions to Australia’s cultural, social, and economic life, and these acts of intolerance diminish the values we all share”.
But Sukhmani notices the limits of “model minority” narratives that reduce South Asian belonging to productivity. “[For] most of the older, first-generation community leaders… the commentary is around, ‘look at how many [of us there are]’, the fact that we’re one of the highest tax-paying diasporas, and look at our educational standards. Whereas that definitely isn’t the discourse with the second generation. The second generation, I think, is much more in the space of, ‘We are Australian and also proud of our heritage’.”
That shift, from proving worth to asserting humanity, sits at the heart of this moment. South Asians shouldn’t have to justify kindness or safety with what they give back. Respect shouldn’t hinge on GDP — it should come simply because, like everyone else, we exist, we feel, and we belong.
And for Sukhmani, the way forward is not isolation but alliance. “When a community is sort of under scrutiny and facing hate, it’s more important than ever to not just look inwards… but also to look outwards and seek connection with other communities that have faced the brunt of hate in this country for a long time, like our First Nations communities. That sense of solidarity, I think, is quite important.”
Sivaraman echoed those same values of solidarity and equality: “This is a moment for reflection and reconciliation. I urge all Australians to stand together in rejecting hate and to embrace understanding and respect. Let this Diwali be a reminder that the light of equality and justice must shine for everyone.”
This Diwali isn’t just about joy it’s about insisting on humanity, loudly and without compromise.
As diyas are lit and communities gather around rangoli and food, what’s really being celebrated is the right to be seen and safe, to belong and to hope. And for everyone who shows up — and speaks up — that light grows a little stronger.
Lead image: iStock
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