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Black and Brahmin: Afro-Indian Identity, Caste, and Solidarity

  • Writer: Jonah Batambuze
    Jonah Batambuze
  • May 23, 2021
  • 3 min read

Updated: Aug 26


Portrait of Afro-Indian activist Tauhid Chappell wearing a colorful patterned shirt, exploring Black and Brown identity.
Tauhid Chappell, Bengali-Nigerian activist exploring Afro-Indian identity, caste, and solidarity.

Tracing Black Ancestry: From Enslavement in Virginia to Yoruba Roots


My father’s side of the family carries a history shaped by enslavement and survival. For much of my life, I stayed disconnected from that lineage because of abuse and distance. But genealogy work revealed a vast Black family tree, stretching back to the 1840s.


We traced our matriarch Adeline and patriarch Austin Chappell to Halifax, Virginia, where records show they were enslaved on the Chappell plantation. Seeing these documents confirmed the weight of slavery in my own bloodline.


DNA testing added another layer. My paternal DNA matched the Yoruba people of Nigeria, and other family members’ tests pointed to the same origin. For the first time, we had a tangible link between our enslaved ancestors in Virginia and West Africa. What once felt like an absence became an expansive heritage of resilience.


This journey connects to wider reflections published at the BlindianProject, including Jonah Batambuze’s essay Black and Indian: What 18,100 Searches Can’t Tell You About Us which explores Afro-Indian identity and solidarity from another perspective.


Afro-Indian activist Tauhid Chappell standing in a vineyard wearing a colorful patterned jacket, reflecting on ancestry and identity.
Tauhid Chappell reflecting on ancestry and Afro-Indian identity during his journey of tracing Black and Bengali roots.

Bengali Brahmin Heritage and Caste Privilege in India


On my mother’s side, the story looks very different. My Bengali family name, Benegal, connects us to a long line of influence in India. Shyam Benegal became one of Bollywood’s most celebrated filmmakers, while Sir Benegal Narsing Rao played a central role in drafting the Indian Constitution—the longest in the world.


This legacy is tied to the Chitrapur Saraswat Brahmin community, one of India’s privileged castes. Caste privilege shaped the educational and economic opportunities available to my relatives, making migration and social mobility possible.


Reconciling these two lineages—enslaved Black ancestors in Virginia and Brahmin privilege in India—forced me to see my identity differently. I carry both: the weight of systemic oppression and the inheritance of caste advantage.


Black–Dalit Solidarity: Parallels Between Race and Caste Oppression


Reading B.R. Ambedkar’s Annihilation of Caste forced me to interrogate my Brahmin heritage. His critique of caste oppression reminded me of the systemic racism Black communities face in the United States. Both Dalits and Black people have endured generations of dehumanization, exploitation, and exclusion from power.


These parallels are not just intellectual—they are lived realities. In 2014, a group of Black leaders in the U.S. published a letter of solidarity to Dalit communities in India. That act echoed a long history of connection across borders, where struggles against caste and racism mirror one another.


For me, these discoveries reframed Afro-Indian identity. It is not only personal but political—sitting at the crossroads of two global systems of oppression. Recognizing the links between them is essential if we are to build genuine solidarity.


Afro-Indian Identity: Reconciling Contradictions and Building Solidarity


So here I stand: a Black Bengali, an Afro-Indian, a Blindian or Blasian. My life carries contradictions—enslaved ancestors and Brahmin lineage, Black struggle and Indian privilege. These contradictions don’t cancel each other out. They demand that I act.


In my personal life, my partner—half Indian and half white—has helped me confront what I thought I knew about caste, race, and privilege. That process of unlearning has been uncomfortable but necessary.


The lessons I carry forward are clear:


  • Trace your roots. Understand where your family comes from.

  • Teach your children the full story. Celebrate Black struggle while interrogating caste and Indian privilege.

  • Confront anti-Blackness. Many Indian communities uphold casteism and colorism, which fuels anti-Black bias. We must break that cycle.


Finding your roots isn’t just personal—it’s political. By acknowledging both the privileges we inherit and the struggles we share, we can work toward solidarity that is honest, grounded, and transformative.


Our communities have always been connected. Uncovering and teaching these links is how we build toward justice across borders.


 
 
 

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