Being an Indian immigrant in Australia is exhausting. The irony that many of us are here because our parents, or their parents, chose this country in their quest for a “better life”, after our own country was decimated by British colonialism, is not lost on me.

My own ancestors were shipped from India by the British to Fiji to work as indentured labourers – ostensibly slaves – on Australian-operated sugar farms in the late 1800s. Multiple generations later, after enduring political and social exclusion in Fiji and being subject to racist rhetoric and political violence, my parents worked insanely hard to find a pathway to Australia, so that their children could escape the cycles of poverty and entrenched disadvantage that they lived through.

So to wind up here, in 2025, once again the target of racism, stigma and prejudice from our communities and our political leaders is not just disappointing, it’s so tiring that I almost didn’t want to write about it. When will it end? What’s the point in, once again, pointing out how absurdly unfair this racism is, when that never seems to stop it from recurring?

Over the past few months, I’ve watched my social media........

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