In August, Indira Rajan was at home in Croton-on-Hudson, watching Senator Kamala Harris deliver a speech accepting the nomination to be Joe Biden’s running mate, when one word jumped out.
“Family,” said Harris, “is my uncles, my aunts, and my Chitthis.”
‘Chitthis’—literally one’s mother’s younger sister—is a term of endearment used by Tamil speakers to describe any woman who qualifies as an auntie, whether they’re related or not.
Rajan, 56, was already a fan of Harris, whose late mother was raised in Chennai, in South India. (She had excitedly tracked Harris’ and Mindy Kaling’s experiment in dosa-making.) But she was so taken by the speech that she called her friend, Yorktown Heights resident Shoba Viswanathan, 52, the next morning.
"I said, 'Hey, let's start something,'" Rajan recalled. "And Chitthi Brigade was born."
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Along with a third friend, Sowmya Mukund, who also lives in Westchester, they started reaching out to friends and acquaintances across the country. Today, the Chitthi Brigade is a political sisterhood of 150-200 members stretching across 20 states, including Ohio, Arizona, Texas, Georgia, and Pennsylvania. It brings together women of three generations, from their 20s to their 70s, all of whom are committed to helping elect the Biden-Harris ticket and to inspiring one another during the chaos of the presidential campaign.
While the group has no Twitter handle, YouTube channel, or website, members regularly send one another updates through private videos on WhatsApp.
“Hello Chitthis!” said Manju Raj, of Austin, in one video. “Through this group’s inspiration I’ve written hundreds of letters and now I’m texting, and next weekend I’m going to be participating in my first week of phone calls” to voters.
“For every Chitthi and ally, we’re one step closer to victory in the most consequential election of our lifetime,” said Suba Srinivasaraghavan of Chantilly, Virginia, in another video. “We’re in this together.”
In her video, Asha Radhakrishnan proclaims “Black Lives Matter,” and urges Chitthis to “help bring leadership that supported the vision of a free, democratic, equal, multi-racial and inclusive nation.”
“Today, the election,” she adds. “Let’s go, ladies!”
Although the members include women who have been politically active, others are not. “I have never had a political conversation with anybody,” said Rajan, a business owner who owns and operates event spaces and also runs a farm in Hawaii.
In the last couple months, however, she has thrown herself into politics. Now, she and Viswanathan, who had only dabbled in local civic affairs, stay up late at night, educating themselves. Prior to this, they mostly knew each other socially, from Diwali and Navratri celebrations and the like.
“To me,” Viswanathan said, “the moment of super excitement in terms of Indu's engagement with this was when she had read up on North Carolina candidates before I had on one morning and I’m like, ‘This is incredible, the extent of political engagement that has happened.’”
Although much of the work of the Chitthi Brigade is relatively low-key, in one instance, an expert on early childhood education from Missouri City, Texas, was tapped by the group South Asians for Biden to appeal to other members of the community through a YouTube video.
“In order to make sure our American dream does not turn into an American nightmare,” Padmaja Sarathy said, dressed in a sari, “we have got to vote.”
According to the latest polling, 72% of Indian Americans intend to vote for Biden, while 22% support Trump. That continues a pattern of long-standing community support for Democrats, including Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. On certain issues, Indian Americans appear to lean strongly to the left: for instance, 78% opposed Trump’s travel ban from majority Muslim countries, according to the National Asian American Survey, compared to 62% of Asian Americans overall. (The ban did not forbid travel to or from India, which is a largely Hindu country.)
Viswanathan, a freelance editor and writer who also works with nonprofits, argued that during the Trump era, an increasing number of Indian Americans had become sensitized to racial discrimination.
“People are realizing that no matter what your social standing is, your skin doesn’t go away,” she said.
In the past, Rajan said, “If we came across somebody who was not very friendly, we just brushed it off as saying, ‘Okay, they are not very friendly.’ But now race has come in and it's kind of poisoning everything.”
The tensions have caused the two to reassess their relationship to their suburban neighbors, including people they know from watching their children play soccer together.
“And so now we wonder what some of those relationships mean if some of them are voting for Trump,” said Viswanathan. “It does raise questions in my mind about what it meant to them to be friends with me.”
The Chitthi Brigade has allowed them to work for change, while building relationships with like-minded women across the country. At times, they have found themselves on the receiving end of unsolicited advice from “Chitthappas,” or Indian uncles who have seen the growth of the group.
“I think it's well intentioned, but yeah, it feels a little out of step,” said Viswanathan with a laugh, attempting to be diplomatic.
Regardless of what happens with the election, there are plans to continue the work. There will be internal discussion around big issues—like climate change and gun control—and a vote to see what the members want to focus on.
And Rajan has something else in mind.
“We are heading on a cross-country trip in a bus, which will proudly display the Chitthi Brigade banner,” she said, “and they will stop at as many points as we can along the way where we have Chitthi representation.” Along with a sign: “Honk for Harris.”
The last stop, she said, would be a town in Alaska, where it’s possible to get a good South Indian meal.
