
— ✍️ Devibala Palanivel and Kouser Zameer
We write as two South Asian women in Australia: one of us from the anti-caste movement through the Periyar Ambedkar Thoughts Circle of Australia (PATCA) and the other an Indian Muslim woman and Public Officer of the Alliance Against Islamophobia (AAI).
I, Devibala, write as a Sydney-based IT professional, community advocate, and Executive Committee member of PATCA. Through my work with PATCA, I have seen how casteoppressed communities are repeatedly asked to prove our pain before institutions will even name it. I know what it means when caste discrimination is dismissed as something that does not exist in Australia, even when its wounds follow our communities into schools, workplaces, temples, cultural spaces, public institutions and everyday life.
I, Kouser, write as an Indian Muslim woman, mother, migrant, student, entrepreneur and Public Officer of the Alliance Against Islamophobia. I come from a South Asian background where antiMuslim hate is not an abstract idea. It is lived through suspicion, stereotypes, political hostility, online abuse, and the quiet fear carried by Muslim families. In Australia, I see how those same narratives can travel through diaspora spaces and affect our sense of safety and belonging.
We come from different histories.
But we write from a shared place.
We write as women who know what it means when powerful voices claim to speak for whole communities while silencing those at the margins. We write as women who know what it means when pain is denied in the name of “community harmony”. We write as women who know that hatred does not always announce itself loudly. Sometimes it arrives dressed as culture, pride, religion, tradition, respectability — or even as “Sanatana Dharma” when that language is used to defend caste hierarchy, Brahminical supremacy, or the exclusion of those deemed impure, disloyal or lesser.
We do not write against Hindu faith or ordinary Hindu communities.
We write against far-right Hindu extremism, Hindutva politics, Brahminical caste supremacy, and the use of religious or cultural language to justify the exclusion of Muslims, caste-oppressed Hindus, Sikhs, Christians, dissenting Hindus and other marginalised communities.
For caste-oppressed communities in Australia, the NSW Parliament Committee’s final report on right-wing extremism is not just another parliamentary document. It is a moment of recognition after years of denial.
The final report records that far-right Hindu extremism was raised as a form of right-wing extremism, and that PATCA, representing caste-oppressed Hindu communities, argued that far right Hindu extremism is actively present in NSW through diaspora organisations and networks. The report further records PATCA’s position that, by reproducing caste hierarchies, far-right Hindu extremism excludes and silences certain groups.
For many caste-oppressed women, that recognition carries years of struggle.
It means women who have been told to stay quiet are no longer speaking only into closed rooms. It means Dalit, Bahujan, Adivasi, Tamil, South Indian and other marginalised communities have entered the parliamentary record. It means caste is no longer only a private wound. It is a public concern.
Caste is not only individual prejudice. It is a system.
It travels through surnames, marriage expectations, food practices, temple spaces, school settings, community leadership, religious instruction and social exclusion. It can make a child feel lesser before they even know why. It can make a woman feel that her body, family, history and dignity are always being judged against a hierarchy she never chose.
For caste-oppressed women, caste is also gendered.
It sits in family honour. It decides who is considered pure, respectable, marriageable, obedient or disposable. It decides who may speak, who must stay silent, and who will be punished for demanding equality.
PATCA’s submission explains why this harm is not merely symbolic. It described far-right Hindu extremism as operating through diaspora networks, cultural organisations, educational programs, religious instruction and publicly funded institutions, while reproducing caste hierarchy, religious dominance and anti-minority hostility.
Education is just as important.
The final report recommends school programs addressing specific forms of discrimination and intolerance, including antisemitism, Islamophobia, racism, misogyny, and discrimination based on gender, disability or LGBTQIA+ status.
But caste must be named within that work.
Children cannot reject caste hierarchy if adults refuse to teach them the harm it causes. Schools cannot protect caste-oppressed children if teachers do not understand how caste operates. Institutions cannot respond to caste discrimination if they are still asking whether caste exists, or if caste hierarchy is defended as “Sanatanam”, tradition or religious culture rather than recognised as a system of inherited inequality.
This moment is significant not only for Australia, but for the Western world.
Across the United States, Canada and the United Kingdom, caste-oppressed communities have fought to make caste visible in workplaces, universities, schools and public institutions. They have been met with denial, backlash and accusations of being anti-Hindu. Australia now has an opportunity to learn from those struggles and move with courage.
PATCA did not allow caste to remain invisible. We named Hindutva as a political ideology and far-right Hindu extremism as part of the right-wing extremist landscape in Australia. We named the harms experienced by caste-oppressed communities. We placed before Parliament what many dominant organisations have long tried to dismiss.
PATCA’s submission argued that far-right Hindu extremism is rooted in Hindutva ideology and sustained through caste-based supremacy and religious majoritarianism. It described this extremism as operating in NSW through diaspora networks, cultural organisations, educational programs, religious instruction and publicly funded institutions. It also argued that far-right Hindu extremism and caste-based supremacist ideology can justify the dehumanisation, exclusion and silencing of Dalit, Bahujan, Adivasi, Muslim, Christian, Sikh, Tamil, South Indian and other marginalised communities.
The report notes the Hindu Council of Australia’s position that Hindutva is a cultural philosophy and that concerns about it were wrongly conflated with extremism. But the report also records PATCA’s position that far-right Hindu extremism reproduces caste hierarchies, excludes communities and silences caste-oppressed voices.
Most importantly, the report did not allow the Hindu Council of Australia’s denial to be the final word. It recorded the views of PATCA and the Alliance Against Islamophobia, that caste discrimination, anti Muslim hate and far-right Hindu extremism are aspects of far-right extremism. It also thanked us stakeholders for bringing these issues to the Committee’s attention.
This is why the final report is so important.
Although caste discrimination was not the original focus of the Committee’s terms of reference, the Committee still chose to record and engage with the evidence brought forward by PATCA and allied communities. The report itself states that while caste discrimination was not the focus of the inquiry, the Committee noted the views of stakeholders who raised it as a form of rightwing extremism.
That makes this recognition even more significant.
It shows that caste discrimination could no longer be dismissed as a side issue, a cultural disagreement, or a private community matter. It shows that the lived experiences of casteoppressed communities, South Asian Muslims and other marginalised groups were powerful enough to enter a parliamentary inquiry on right-wing extremism, even when caste was not initially named as its central concern.
For us, this is a significant victory for PATCA, for the anti-caste movement, for communities resisting anti-Muslim hatred, and for solidarity among Bahujan communities and South Asian Muslim communities. It affirms our shared struggle against Brahminism, caste supremacy and far-right Hindu extremism, while making clear that Hindu faith itself must not be confused with the political ideologies and social hierarchies that cause harm.
It means PATCA’s evidence was not pushed aside as “community disagreement”. It means caste-oppressed Hindu communities were not erased by dominant organisations claiming to speak for all Hindus. It means the Committee heard the denial, considered the evidence, and still placed caste discrimination and far-right Hindu extremism within the public record of a rightwing extremism inquiry.
That matters.
For years, caste-oppressed communities have been told that naming caste is divisive, that naming Hindutva is anti-Hindu, and that naming Brahminical supremacy is hatred. This report shows otherwise. It affirms the core principle PATCA has consistently advanced: Hindu faith must be distinguished from political Hindutva, and caste-oppressed Hindus have the right to challenge caste hierarchy, exclusion and silencing without being accused of attacking Hinduism.
This distinction also highlights the limits of progressive Hindu allyship in Australia.
There are Hindu organisations, including Hindus for Human Rights ANZ, that publicly oppose Hindutva, caste and casteism, and speak of progressive Hindu representation, social justice and hate politics. Such positions have value, particularly when they challenge majoritarian narratives from within Hindu communities. But allyship is not the same as leadership.
In our view, progressive Hindu spaces in Australia have too often remained cautious, symbolic and limited when it comes to the concrete work of seeking government recognition of far-right Hindu extremism, far-right Hindu groups, caste-based harm and anti-Muslim hatred as matters of public policy and community safety. Opposing casteism in general terms is not the same as placing evidence before Parliament. Critiquing Hindutva in broad language is not the same as asking Australian institutions to recognise far-right Hindu extremism as part of the right-wing extremist landscape.
That is why PATCA’s role is so significant. PATCA did not merely ask for a more inclusive Hinduism. It placed the lived experiences of caste-oppressed communities before Parliament and argued that caste discrimination, Brahminical supremacy and far-right Hindu extremism must be understood as matters of equality, public safety and social cohesion.
The anti-caste struggle in Australia cannot depend on whether progressive Hindu organisations are willing to validate our pain. Caste-oppressed communities must lead this work themselves, with allies standing beside them rather than speaking over them.
For Muslim communities, the report’s distinction between Hindu faith and political Hindutva also matters deeply.
It protects us from anti-Muslim hatred that is too often dismissed as an “overseas issue”, an “intra-community disagreement”, or something too uncomfortable for Australian institutions to name.
As Muslim women, we know what it means to build a life while carrying suspicion. We know what it means when our names, our clothing, our mosques, our children’s schools, our food, our prayers and our grief become targets. We know what it means to raise children and wonder whether they will one day be asked to prove that they belong.
The Alliance Against Islamophobia’s submission made this connection clear. AAI warned that far-right Hindu extremist networks operating in NSW pose foreseeable risks to community safety and social cohesion, including through cumulative dehumanisation, the construction of Muslims, Sikhs, Christians, caste-oppressed Hindus and dissenting voices as threats, and the normalisation of exclusionary and supremacist narratives. AAI also identified South Asian Muslim communities as experiencing heightened Islamophobia, harassment, withdrawal from civic participation and increased exposure to threats.
This is why the report is also a victory for AAI.
It recognises a form of Islamophobia that mainstream Muslim institutions in Australia have not always been equipped to name with the specificity it requires. Organisations such as the Australian National Imams Council (ANIC), the Australian Federation of Islamic Councils (AFIC), the Board of Imams Victoria (BOIV) and the Islamic Council of Victoria (ICV) have played important roles in representing Muslim communities on many issues, including Islamophobia.
However, mainstream Muslim advocacy in Australia has not always reflected the specific experiences of South Asian Muslims with the depth and cultural understanding required.
This is partly because many established Muslim representative bodies have historically emerged from, or been shaped by, non-South Asian community contexts. Their work has often focused on forms of anti-Muslim hate that are more visible in Arab, Middle Eastern or broader Australian Muslim experiences. Those experiences are real and important.
But South Asian Muslims also face a distinct form of anti-Muslim hate and dehumanisation. It is often expressed through Hindi, Tamil, Gujarati, Telugu and other South Asian languages. It can appear through Hindutva narratives, Indian political references, historical grievances, online abuse, coded slurs, conspiracy theories, and far-right Hindu extremist tropes that portray Muslims as invaders, traitors, demographic threats, terrorists, or enemies of civilisation.
These forms of hate may not be immediately recognisable to those outside South Asian communities. To institutions unfamiliar with their cultural, linguistic and political codes, they may appear as cultural pride, diaspora politics, religious expression or community disagreement, when in reality they can carry deeply dehumanising messages about Muslims.
That gap matters.
AAI’s work is important because it names this specific harm. It brings South Asian Muslim experiences into Australian anti-Islamophobia advocacy and helps institutions understand that Islamophobia does not come from one direction only. It can be racial, religious, gendered, geopolitical, language-specific and deeply shaped by South Asian majoritarian politics. It also shows that anti-Muslim hate linked to far-right Hindu extremist ecosystems is not simply foreign politics.
It is an Australian social cohesion, safety and equality issue.
For us, this recognition brings South Asian Muslim experiences out of the margins. It affirms that anti-Muslim hate linked to far-right Hindu extremism must be named, documented and addressed alongside other forms of right-wing extremist harm.
Muslim communities stand with caste-oppressed communities because we recognise the same machinery of dehumanisation.
Our histories are not identical. The wounds of caste oppression and Islamophobia are different. But both are sustained by ideologies that rank human beings, mark some communities as inferior or dangerous, and punish those who demand equality.
Caste-oppressed communities are told they are divisive when they name caste. Muslim communities are told they are exaggerating when they name Islamophobia. Both are asked to remain silent for the comfort of dominant voices.
Far-right Hindu extremism harms both our communities. It marks Muslims as threats and casteoppressed communities as inferior, disloyal or anti-Hindu when they demand dignity. It uses the language of culture, religion and community pride to protect hierarchy and majoritarian power.
That is why solidarity is not symbolic. It is necessary.
When caste-oppressed communities fight Brahminism and caste supremacy, Muslim communities must stand with them. When Muslim communities resist anti-Muslim hatred and Hindutva-aligned vilification, caste-oppressed communities know that this too is part of the same broader struggle against supremacist politics.
Our shared fight is not against Hindu faith. It is against the political and social systems that weaponise faith, culture and identity to silence the oppressed.
This is how we protect each other. This is how we protect our children. This is how we build an Australia where no community is forced to beg dominant groups for recognition of its pain.
This moment matters to us as women because we are often the ones who carry the emotional cost of these harms. We comfort children. We calm families.
We explain what happened. We absorb fear. We soften our language so others will not feel accused. We are told to keep the peace even when peace has never been offered to us equally.
But silence is not peace.
Denial is not harmony.
A multiculturalism that protects only dominant voices is not inclusion.
The Committee’s recommendation that the NSW Government fund community reporting services for hate crimes directed at specific communities is therefore vital. The report notes that PATCA recommended community-led monitoring and reporting pathways for non-violent extremist harm, including caste-based discrimination and religious vilification, and the Committee ultimately recommended funding community reporting services for hate crimes directed at specific communities.
Caste-oppressed communities need safe pathways to report caste discrimination. Muslim communities need safe pathways to report Islamophobia. Sikh, Christian, Tamil, Dalit, Bahujan and Adivasi communities need systems that understand our lived realities, not generic processes that flatten every harm into the same language.
For readers of The Mooknayak, this moment belongs to a longer history.
It belongs to Babasaheb Ambedkar, who taught us that caste is not merely a social practice but a system of graded inequality. It belongs to Savitribai Phule, who knew that education could break the chains placed on oppressed communities and women. It belongs to Periyar, who insisted on self-respect, rationalism and the destruction of caste hierarchy.
And now, in Australia, that struggle has found new ground.
This is a victory for caste-oppressed communities who refused silence.
It is a victory for PATCA.
It is a victory for Dravidian, Ambedkarite and Periyarist thought in Australia.
It is a victory for Muslim and caste-oppressed solidarity.
But recognition must now become action.
Community-led reporting must be funded. Caste must be recognised in anti-discrimination frameworks. Schools must be equipped to identify caste-based harm. Governments must apply proper scrutiny to publicly funded cultural, religious and educational organisations. Affected communities must be heard directly, not filtered through dominant groups claiming to speak for everyone.
The lesson of this moment is simple: oppressed communities cannot afford to stand apart when the forces against us are connected.
Brahminism, caste supremacy, anti-Muslim hatred and far-right Hindu extremism may wound us in different ways, but they are sustained by the same belief that some people are born to rule, some are born to obey, and some must be pushed outside the circle of dignity altogether.
We reject that.
We reject a multiculturalism that treats dominant organisations as the only legitimate community voice.
We reject the idea that caste-oppressed Hindus must be silent to prove they are not anti-Hindu.
We reject the idea that Muslims must constantly prove we are safe, loyal or grateful before our pain can be heard.
We reject the idea that women should carry the burden of community shame while men and institutions decide what may be named.
Our solidarity is not built on sameness. It is built on recognition.
When caste-oppressed communities speak, Muslim communities must listen.
When Muslim communities speak, caste-oppressed communities must listen.
When Bahujan, Dalit, Adivasi, Tamil, Sikh, Christian, dissenting Hindu and Muslim communities come together, we create a language of resistance that is stronger than denial.
As women, we do not want our children to inherit fear.
We want caste-oppressed children to know they are beneath no one.
We want Muslim children to know they are not enemies in their own country.
We want Hindu children to grow up free from the lie that faith requires hierarchy.
We want all children to inherit dignity, courage and truth.
For too long, women at the margins have carried the cost of silence.
We have absorbed humiliation to protect families.
We have softened our words to protect community reputations.
We have been told that speaking out would divide people.
But justice does not divide communities.
Supremacy does.
Today, we choose justice. We choose solidarity. We choose to stand together — casteoppressed women and Muslim women, caste-oppressed communities and Muslim communities — against every ideology that tells our children they are lesser, polluted, dangerous, disloyal or undeserving of equal belonging.
This is our home too.
And our children deserve to live here without fear.
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