The Sikh community in the United States, despite its rich heritage, firm values of equality and service, and deep-rooted commitment to the American dream, remains one of the most misunderstood religious minorities in the country. Though Sikhs have been in America for more than a century, they have often been overlooked in mainstream discourse, misidentified in the public eye, and tragically targeted in hate-driven acts of violence. For many Sikh Americans, their daily existence is an ongoing balance between contributing meaningfully to society and coping with the deep pain of discrimination and loss.
Sikhism, a monotheistic religion founded in the 15th century by Guru Nanak in the Punjab region of South Asia, emphasizes the oneness of God, the equality of all humans, and the importance of honest living, community service, and social justice. Sikh men (and some women) traditionally wear turbans and maintain unshorn hair, both symbols of their spiritual identity and commitment.
Sikhs first arrived in the United States in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, particularly to work on farms, railroads, and lumber mills along the West Coast. The earliest Sikh immigrants settled in California’s Central Valley, and by the early 1900s, had begun building some of the first gurdwaras (Sikh houses of worship) in North America.
Despite their contributions, Sikh immigrants often faced harsh xenophobia. The 1917 Immigration Act virtually halted further Indian immigration, and the Supreme Court’s 1923 decision in United States v. Bhagat Singh Thind ruled that Indians, including Sikhs, could not be naturalized as U.S. citizens because they were not considered “white.”
It wasn’t until the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965 that a new wave of Sikh immigration began. This wave brought with it doctors, engineers, small business owners, and professionals, who laid the foundation for vibrant Sikh communities across the U.S., including in states like California, New York, New Jersey, Texas, and Indiana.
Despite their long history and valuable contributions to American society, Sikhs remain widely misunderstood. A large part of this misunderstanding stems from their appearance. The turban, a deeply spiritual and visible symbol of Sikh identity, has unfortunately made many Sikhs targets of misidentification and prejudice—especially since the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks.
In the aftermath of 9/11, hate crimes against those perceived to be Muslim or Arab skyrocketed. Sikhs, who were often mistaken for Muslims due to their turbans and beards, bore the brunt of this backlash. The first person killed in a post-9/11 hate crime was Balbir Singh Sodhi, a Sikh gas station owner in Arizona, who was gunned down just days after the attacks by a man claiming to be retaliating against terrorists.
This pattern of mistaken identity, combined with a general lack of public knowledge about Sikhism, has led to enduring challenges. Surveys have shown that many Americans cannot accurately identify Sikh beliefs or symbols. Children in schools are often bullied for their appearance. Sikh travelers are frequently subjected to secondary screenings at airports. And Sikh places of worship have been vandalized or attacked.
For Sikh Americans, the pain of being misunderstood is compounded by a history of violence and marginalization. The 2012 shooting at the Oak Creek Gurdwara in Wisconsin, where six worshippers were murdered by a white supremacist, remains one of the deadliest attacks on a place of worship in U.S. history. The tragedy devastated the Sikh community but also became a turning point in awareness and advocacy.
The victims were peaceful congregants—mothers, fathers, grandfathers—gathered for Sunday services. The fact that they were targeted solely based on their faith was a sobering wake-up call for the nation. Yet, the Sikh response was marked not by hatred or vengeance, but by grace, resilience, and a renewed commitment to Chardi Kala—a Sikh principle of relentless optimism in the face of adversity.
Even as they mourn, Sikhs continue to extend compassion and support to others. Following natural disasters and public crises, Sikh gurdwaras routinely open their kitchens to serve free meals (langar) to anyone in need, regardless of religion or background. During the COVID-19 pandemic, Sikh organizations across the U.S. mobilized to provide masks, meals, and medical assistance to frontline workers and vulnerable communities.
In recent years, Sikh American advocacy groups such as the Sikh Coalition and SALDEF (Sikh American Legal Defense and Education Fund) have worked tirelessly to educate the public, push for hate crime tracking legislation, and ensure Sikh inclusion in school curricula. These organizations also train law enforcement and government officials about Sikhism and the challenges Sikhs face.
There are hopeful signs: More states are now including Sikhism in their public school standards. Several Sikhs have been elected to public office, including Ravinder Bhalla, the mayor of Hoboken, New Jersey—the first turbaned Sikh mayor in American history. In the military, longstanding bans on religious articles of faith are slowly being lifted, allowing Sikhs to serve without compromising their identity.
Still, the struggle is far from over. The trauma of past violence lingers, and new generations of Sikh Americans continue to experience both the burden of stereotypes and the pride of their unique identity.
The story of Sikhs in America is one of perseverance, contribution, and courage. Yet, it is also a story marked by deep sorrow and the persistent need to be seen and understood. To truly honor the Sikh American experience, the broader society must do more than offer condolences after tragedies—it must listen, learn, and stand in solidarity.
Understanding the Sikh faith, acknowledging the community’s suffering, and celebrating their contributions are steps toward a more inclusive and compassionate nation. For Sikhs in America, mourning is not just for lives lost in violent attacks—it is also for the loss of dignity that comes from being misunderstood in the land they call home. But in that mourning is a quiet strength, a radiant hope, and an unwavering commitment to justice, equality, and peace.