🔗 Share this article

After 60 years together, America, I'm ending our relationship. Though fondness remains, the romantic connection has faded and the time has come to go our separate ways. I'm leaving by choice, though it brings sadness, because you possess countless wonderful qualities.

Scenic Wonders and Innovative Energy

From your breathtaking national parks, towering redwood forests and unique wildlife to the magical illumination of lightning bugs amid cornfields on summer evenings and the vibrant autumn foliage, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your ability to spark creativity seems boundless, as demonstrated by the motivational people I've met throughout your territory. Many of my most cherished memories revolve around flavors that will forever remind me of you – aromatic cinnamon, pumpkin pie, fruit preserves. But, America, you've become increasingly difficult to understand.

Family Legacy and Shifting Identity

Were I drafting a farewell message to the United States, that's how it would begin. I've been what's termed an "unintentional U.S. citizen" since birth due to my father and centuries of ancestors before him, starting in 1636 including military participants in foundational conflicts, DNA connections to past leadership plus multiple eras of settlers who traversed the country, beginning in northeastern states toward central and western regions.

I experience deep honor regarding my ancestral background and their role in the national story. My father experienced childhood during the Great Depression; his grandfather served with the military overseas during the first world war; his single-parent ancestor operated agricultural land with numerous offspring; his great-uncle assisted rebuild San Francisco after the 1906 earthquake; 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 given the perplexing and concerning political atmosphere that leaves me questioning what American identity represents. This phenomenon has been labeled "national belonging anxiety" – and I believe I experience it. Currently I wish to establish separation.

Practical Considerations and Financial Burden

I merely lived in the United States for two years and haven't visited for eight years. I've maintained Australian nationality for most of my life and no intention to reside, employment or education in the US again. Furthermore, I'm certain I won't require military rescue – so there's no practical necessity for me to retain American nationality.

Furthermore, the obligation as an American national to file yearly financial documentation, although not residing nor working there or eligible for services, becomes onerous and stressful. The United States ranks among only two nations worldwide – the other being Eritrea – that impose taxation according to nationality instead of location. And financial compliance is mandatory – it's documented within travel documents.

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 process proves highly challenging and complex to complete each January, when the U.S. tax period commences.

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 need to meet requirements.

While taxation isn't the primary reason for my renunciation, the recurring cost and anxiety associated with documentation becomes troubling and basic financial principles suggest it represents poor investment. However, ignoring American fiscal duties would mean that visiting involves additional apprehension regarding possible border rejection for non-compliance. Or, I might defer settlement until my estate handles it posthumously. Both options appear unsatisfactory.

Possessing American travel documentation constitutes a privilege that countless immigrants earnestly attempt to obtain. But it's a privilege that creates discomfort personally, so I'm taking action, despite the $2,350 cost to complete the process.

The threatening formal photograph featuring the former president, scowling toward visitors at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I performed the citizenship relinquishment – supplied the ultimate impetus. I recognize I'm choosing the proper direction for my situation and when the consular officer inquires about potential coercion, I honestly respond negatively.

Two weeks afterward I received my certificate of renunciation and my voided travel papers to retain as mementos. My identity will supposedly be published on a federal registry. I simply hope that subsequent travel authorization will be approved when I decide to visit again.