🔗 Share this article

After 60 years together, United States, I'm ending our relationship. While I still hold affection for you, the passion has diminished and I'm making the difficult decision to separate. I'm leaving by choice, despite the sorrow it brings, because you possess countless wonderful qualities.

Scenic Wonders and Innovative Energy

Beginning with your magnificent protected lands, soaring ancient trees and unique wildlife to the magical illumination of lightning bugs between crop rows during warm nights and the brilliant fall colors, your natural splendor is extraordinary. Your ability to spark creativity appears limitless, as evidenced through the motivational people I've encountered within your borders. Numerous precious recollections revolve around flavors that will forever remind me of you – aromatic cinnamon, seasonal squash dessert, grape jelly. However, United States, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.

Ancestral History and Changing Connection

Were I drafting a farewell message to America, those would be the opening words. I've qualified as an "unintentional U.S. citizen" since birth because of my paternal lineage and centuries of ancestors before him, starting in 1636 and featuring revolutionary and civil war soldiers, shared genetic material with a former president plus multiple eras of settlers who journeyed across the nation, beginning in northeastern states toward central and western regions.

I feel tremendous pride in my family's history and their contributions to America's narrative. My dad grew up during the Great Depression; his grandfather served as a Marine in France during the first world war; his widowed great-grandmother managed a farm with nine children; his great-uncle assisted rebuild San Francisco following the seismic disaster; and his grandfather campaigned for political office.

Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I find myself no longer feeling connected with the country. This is particularly true considering the confusing and alarming governmental climate that makes me doubt the meaning of national belonging. This phenomenon has been labeled "national belonging anxiety" – and I recognize the symptoms. Currently I wish to establish separation.

Logistical Factors and Economic Strain

I've only resided within America a brief period and haven't visited in nearly a decade. I've maintained Australian nationality for almost forty years and have no plans to live, work or study within America subsequently. Furthermore, I'm certain I'll never need emergency extraction – so there's no practical necessity to maintain U.S. citizenship.

Additionally, the requirement I face as a U.S. citizen to file yearly financial documentation, despite neither living nor working there nor qualifying for benefits, becomes onerous and stressful. The United States ranks among only two nations worldwide – including Eritrea – that implement levies according to nationality instead of location. And financial compliance is mandatory – it's documented in our passport backs.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists connecting both nations, intended to avoid double taxation, but preparation expenses range from substantial amounts yearly for straightforward declarations, and the procedure represents highly challenging and complex to undertake every new year, as the American fiscal cycle begins.

Compliance Concerns and Final Decision

Authorities have indicated that eventually American officials will mandate conformity and administer substantial fines on delinquent individuals. This enforcement doesn't target extremely wealthy figures like Boris Johnson but every U.S. citizen abroad must fulfill obligations.

Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my renunciation, the annual expense and stress associated with documentation becomes troubling and fundamental economics indicates it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities would mean that visiting including extra worry about potential denial at immigration for non-compliance. Or, I might defer settlement until my estate handles it posthumously. Both options appear unsatisfactory.

Holding a U.S. passport represents a privilege that countless immigrants earnestly attempt to obtain. But it's a privilege that feels uncomfortable for me, thus I'm implementing changes, despite the $2,350 cost to complete the process.

The intimidating official portrait featuring the former president, scowling toward visitors at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I recited the renunciation oath – supplied the ultimate impetus. I understand I'm choosing the proper direction for my situation and when the consular officer inquires about potential coercion, I honestly respond negatively.

A fortnight later I received my certificate of renunciation and my canceled passport to retain as mementos. My identity will supposedly be published on a federal registry. I merely wish that subsequent travel authorization will be approved when I decide to visit again.