With Kamala Harris leading the US presidential race, I found myself immersed in American politics for the first time.

Today's Indian American community can roughly trace its beginnings back to the 1960s. In 1965, the Immigration and Nationality Act eliminated national origin, race, and ancestry as criteria for immigration to the United States. Instead, it permitted immigration based on what then-President Lyndon B. Johnson called “merit.” [men.]The result was that foreign experts with skills that could benefit the U.S. were brought in. A large portion of this group came from India, where, after two centuries of colonial rule, huge investments were being made in the training of graduate students and professionals.

My maternal grandparents were part of the first wave of Indian immigrants to the United States. Both were physicians who graduated at the top of their class from Calcutta National Medical College before moving to the U.S. They raised three children in the U.S. and eventually became U.S. citizens. They are deeply Indian in both their actions and beliefs, but are grateful for the home America has given them for the past 50 years.

Like my grandparents, I grew up in India. I was born in Delaware and moved to IIT Kharagpur when I was two years old. We returned to Delaware every summer to live in a 1950s bungalow that the family had owned since before I was born. Growing up, I felt rooted in both India and America.

After moving, I watched from afar the four U.S. presidential elections. As a four-year-old, I couldn’t comprehend the paradigm shift that was Barack Obama’s 2008 victory. It wasn’t until I saw 2016 go in the exact opposite direction that I understood its significance. The next four years would shake up my perception of America and my place in it.

Joe Biden's 2020 victory renewed my sense of belonging, not least because at his side, Delaware's golden boy, was a woman with the same family history and name as my own: Kamala Harris.

Because of her, America achieved so many firsts: the first female vice president, the first Black, Asian and South Asian vice president, and because of her, I felt included in American politics for the first time.

And having done so, I am torn between awe and dread.

Harris has had an effective presidency. In the three and a half years since Biden and Harris took office, they have overseen the mass distribution of COVID-19 vaccines, passed legislation that has reduced the U.S. unemployment rate to its lowest since 1969, and created the most significant gun control bill in the past three decades. Under them, the U.S. rejoined the Paris Climate Accords and passed a bipartisan infrastructure bill that pumped huge investments into public infrastructure.

But even if their partnership were effective, I worry that Harris alone doesn't have all the elements that made her and Biden such a great team: Joe Biden is a veteran politician, an establishment man who has used the relationships he's built over 50 years to get things done, and he's also a white man.

Kamala Harris is a mixed race woman of black and Indian American descent. I don't know how the country will react to her, even if she wins. This is something I'm hesitant to put into words because it reflects how I feel about myself and my presence in America.

Perhaps the best thing to do now is to acknowledge the importance of this moment. Whatever happens in November, Kamala Harris's rise to the top of the presidential field is a celebration of the diversity of America and India, both of which are currently fighting forces that seek to condense and shorten them.

The author is a second-year student majoring in mathematics and journalism at Duke University in the United States.