Today is Monday, April 28, the Canada Election Day! Even if I wish for the next Liberal Government under the leadership of Mark Carney, I wish all three Nepali candidates (Bijay Paudel, Bhutila Karpoche and Prashant Dhakal) all the best for their victory! If you have not voted already, please vote! It is your civic right and please exercise this right prudently!”

Before we enter into today’s topic, let’s have a look at these thinkings: 

Nepali:  “Nepalis never change, even in Canada!” 

Indians:  “These Indian people are like that.”

 Bangladeshi: “Our Bangla people are just too jealous!”

Let’s start with double standards in diaspora identity. When I recently questioned the automatic support for Bijay Paudel solely based on his Nepali identity, the reactions exposed a fascinating contradiction in our diaspora psychology. The same community members who take immense pride in Nepali achievements simultaneously deploy self-deprecating tropes like “Nepalis never change, even in Canada!” to dismiss legitimate concerns. And, have a look at this one, too: 

“The division is Nepal’s shared heritage—some label it as intellectualism, others advocate for wisdom, some politicize it, while many pursue selfish agendas. But however it unfolds, we must keep fighting. We must never give up—whether in Nepal or abroad. We must never abandon our identity. Long live Nepal! Long live Nepalis! Long live our intellect! Long live our conscience and political awareness! We built Nepal—with this same determination, Canada too will prosper. Let your intellect continue to guide the way!”  

Both the statements above are from my own Facebook Wall!

This double standard bothered me a lot, and I wanted to study more about it. I came to know that it is common in other communities as well, at least among South Asians. This phenomenon—visible across South Asian diasporas from Indians saying “These Indian people are like that” to Bangladeshis lamenting “Our Bangla people are just too jealous!”—reveals deeper tensions about identity, power, and integration. These types of thinking or double standards really bothered me, and I wanted to know more about them.

These reactions stem from what postcolonial scholar Homi Bhabha calls “mimicry”—the colonized subject’s internalization of outsider perspectives. The Defensive Nationalist seeks white approval through respectability politics (“See how united we are!”), while the Exceptionalist craves inclusion by distancing themselves from the group (“I’m not like those other Nepalis”). Both positions:

1. Reduce complex policy debates to personality conflicts
2. Assume Western political norms are inherently superior
3. Ignore that healthy democracies require robust intragroup criticism

Moving beyond this paradox requires fundamental shifts in how we engage politically. First, we must learn to separate ethnic pride from policy substance.

Second, we need to reclaim “community” as an active practice rather than a passive identity. Real solidarity manifests in organizing town halls where candidates must explain policy specifics beyond photo-op platitudes.

Finally, we must normalize constructive criticism as healthy democratic practice, not “leg-pulling.” When someone dismisses policy questions as “typical Nepali negativity,” reframe the conversation: Point out how Filipino nurses achieved credential reforms through persistent advocacy, Indian-Canadians secured Punjabi language services in BC hospitals, or how Iranian-Canadians secured Farsi interpretation services by holding politicians accountable. Our community deserves the same rigor—not because we’re “backward,” but because we’re invested in building lasting power. The measure of our diaspora’s maturity won’t be whether we cheer loudest for Nepali candidates, but whether we can simultaneously take pride in their achievement while demanding they deliver measurable results.

The test of our diaspora’s maturity isn’t whether we produce Nepali politicians, but whether we can tell them: “We’re proud you’re Nepali—now here’s precisely how you’ll address our community’s needs.” When we transition from defensive pride to policy-smart engagement, we’ll stop being surprised that Nepalis can both celebrate our identity and demand better from each other—because that’s what thriving communities do.