Am I an Insider?

On Identity, Labels, and Lived Realities

Introduction

In recent decades, a new vocabulary has emerged in the world of mission strategy—terms such as Insider, HYB, and other hybrid identities. These expressions, though presented as analytical tools, often carry the power to name, classify, and define. But identity—religious, communal, or personal—is rarely something people choose in a vacuum. It is shaped by family, community, memory, history, and the simple fact of being born into a people. Yet, more often than not, the world attempts to impose labels upon us—labels that may have nothing to do with our lived reality.

This reflection began when someone responded to my earlier post Gilded Trophies by asking whether I was referring to “insider movements.” The question, though simple, opened up a deeper inquiry: Who has the authority to define my identity—my community and birth, or someone else’s missiological framework?

Am I an Insider?

After reading Gilded Trophies, a reader—whether he considers himself a Hindu bhakta or a Christian convert, I do not know—asked me, “Is your article referring to insider movements?”

I replied that the article was a rebuttal to the claim of “persecution on conversion.” But his question stayed with me.

So I asked him:

“Are you an insider in your own family and community?”

The “Insider” category does not originate from within Indian communities. It is a label constructed by an Outsider or an Alongsider to define their role and justify their relevance among the people they work with. But I cannot allow someone else to impose such a label on me—as if I were their representative, agent, or “mole” planted inside my own community for the fulfillment of their objectives.

If they want to use such terminology for themselves, that is their choice. But their freedom ends where my identity begins.

The Burden of Imposed Identities

Even the term Christian was not originally selected by the followers of Muktinath; it was assigned by outsiders.

Just as the people living beyond the Sindhu river came to be called “Hindus,” not by themselves but by others, the names communities bear are often products of external perception rather than internal self-definition.

In contemporary mission strategy, new labels arose largely due to practical constraints. When entering India as a “missionary” became nearly impossible, terms such as Tentmaker appeared. Later, when Christian organisations found themselves irrelevant or unwelcome in certain contexts, they became “Companies.” Baptism became “swimming in the water.” And the creativity continued endlessly.

I understand the need to adapt. But why must I surrender my birthright, history, and communal identity to accommodate someone else’s organisational needs or missiological innovations?
I refuse to trade my lived identity for a temporary cup of hot soup—especially one served in a Western bowl.

This is not written in bitterness or accusation. It is simply a gentle reminder—especially to Hindu bhaktas—not to allow labels created by others to define our own lives.

On HYB and the Multiplication of Categories

A similar issue arose with the term HYB—Hindu Yesu Bhakta. I objected immediately. I do not need such a category.

I am a Hindu. And I am a bhakta of the Lord. That is enough.

If the HYB label becomes normal, soon we will have MYB (Muslim Yesu Bhakta), BYB (Buddhist Yesu Bhakta), and soon after, even CYB (Christian Yesu Bhakta)—created to distinguish “born-again” believers from “nominal” Christians.

From there, it would not take long before we have American Yesu Bhakta, Russian Yesu Bhakta, Thai Yesu Bhakta, and an endless list of absurdities.

If a separate spiritual identity were truly needed within Hinduism, Mukti Panthis might be the closest meaningful expression. But even that is unnecessary for me.

Identity and Birth

A Vaishnavite, Saivite, or follower of any sampradaya does not obtain that identity merely through personal piety. It is commonly inherited by birth into a family that follows that tradition.

While a Vaishnavite, Saivite, or Veerashaiva may worship only the deity of their lineage, many Smarta families—and countless ordinary Hindus—worship multiple deities. Most Hindus have a chosen deity (ishta devata) alongside a family deity (kula devata). Identity arises not from theological sophistication but simply from being born into a community. To put this in context, consider a Smarta Brahmin who primarily follows Advaita Vedantic philosophy and worships all the major gods—Siva, Vishnu, and others. They may also have a family deity originating from popular or tribal traditions—as in the case of one of my second cousins, whose family deity is Sasta, to whom offerings and even animal sacrifices are made through the priest, even though the family members themselves may not actively participate in that particular ritual.

This is true not only in India but also across Abrahamic religions. Ordinary people rarely construct identities based on doctrine; they inherit them socially, culturally, and historically.

Identity, therefore, must arise from within—family, community, society, and nation—not from labels manufactured outside.

The Human Identity Argument

On one occasion, someone told me, “I am neither a Hindu nor a Christian; I am just a human.”

I appreciated the sentiment and responded gently:
“Well spoken. But your school certificate may disagree. And your passport certainly will. None of us can live in a no-man’s-land. Identity is necessary—but it must be your birthright, not an outsider’s invention.”

Conclusion

Though these reflections focus on the Indian context, the dynamics are universal. Identity—whether Hindu, Christian, or otherwise—is rarely a fixed essence. It is shaped by memory, fear, aspiration, and the social worlds in which we grow up.

As Dipesh Chakrabarty notes:

“…Behind the projected homogeneity and permanence of communal identity, there are processes seeking to articulate competing identities largely on the basis of ‘fear’ and ‘anxiety’ of being swallowed by the dominant/majority community. The existence of the ‘feared other’ becomes an additional justification for continually asserting uniqueness. The process of constructing identity by ‘othering’ encourages, as Parekh maintains (cited in Chakrabarty), ‘the community to pay more attention to how and how much it differs from the others than to whether or not it is true to itself.’¹³¹”

Bhikhu Parekh, as cited by Chakrabarty, explains in detail that identity constructed on the basis of difference often exaggerates and fetishizes distinctions, discourages inter-communal borrowing, and can distort a community’s own way of life. He provides examples from post-war Germany, Canada, Quebec, Japan’s nihonjinron, Russia’s “Russian Idea,” and many postcolonial nations such as Algeria and Iran.¹³¹

Such dynamics are visible among Christian minorities in India, where fear and anxiety often shape communal identity. Narratives of threat, marginalisation, or persecution become emotionally central, influencing behavior, social boundaries, and even mission strategies. While insider movements and hybrid identity models attempt to offer alternatives, identity constructed by fear—whether insisting on rigid boundaries or multiplying hybrid categories—always distorts mission. Identity that grows from one’s own history, community, and lived experience, however, leads to freedom.

In the end, the question remains simple: Who has the right to define who I am? Not a missionary, not an academic, not a strategy model. Identity must flow from one’s birth, community, culture, and inner journey—not from labels manufactured elsewhere. I refuse to let anyone else define mine.

Ashram, December 3, 2025

Footnote

¹³¹ Bidyut Chakrabarty [ed.], Communal Identity in India: Its Construction and Articulation in the Twentieth Century, New Delhi, Oxford, 2003, Fourth impression 2011, p. 28, from notes citing Bhikhu Parekh, “Discourses on National Identity,” Political Studies, Sept. 1994, p. 503.