🔗 Share this article

After 60 years together, United States, our partnership must conclude. Though fondness remains, 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

From your breathtaking national parks, towering redwood forests and unique wildlife to the enchanting glow of fireflies between crop rows during warm nights and the vibrant autumn foliage, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your capacity to ignite innovation appears limitless, as evidenced through the inspiring individuals I've met throughout your territory. Numerous precious recollections revolve around flavors that permanently connect me to you – cinnamon spice, pumpkin pie, fruit preserves. But, America, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.

Family Legacy and Shifting Identity

If I were composing a separation letter to the United States, that's how it would begin. I've been what's termed an "unintentional U.S. citizen" from delivery because of my paternal lineage and ten generations preceding him, commencing in the seventeenth century including 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 experience deep honor in my family's history and their contributions to America's narrative. My father experienced childhood through economic hardship; his ancestor fought with the military overseas during the first world war; his widowed great-grandmother managed a farm with nine children; his relative helped reconstruct the city after the 1906 earthquake; while another ancestor ran for political office.

However, notwithstanding this classic U.S. background, I find myself no longer feeling connected with the country. This is particularly true considering the confusing and alarming governmental climate that leaves me questioning the meaning of national belonging. Experts have termed this "national belonging anxiety" – and I recognize the symptoms. Now I desire to create distance.

Practical Considerations and Financial Burden

I merely lived within America for two years and haven't visited in nearly a decade. I've held Australian citizenship for almost forty years and have no plans to live, work or study within America subsequently. And I'm confident I'll never need emergency extraction – so there's no practical necessity for me to retain American nationality.

Furthermore, the obligation I face as a U.S. citizen to file yearly financial documentation, although not residing nor working there nor qualifying for benefits, 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 printed in our passport backs.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists connecting both nations, intended to avoid double taxation, but preparation expenses range between A$1,200 and A$3,500 annually even for basic returns, and the procedure represents highly challenging and complex to complete each January, as the American fiscal cycle begins.

Regulatory Issues and Ultimate Choice

Authorities have indicated that ultimately American officials will mandate conformity and impose significant penalties 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 annual expense and stress of filing returns proves distressing and basic financial principles suggest it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. However, ignoring American fiscal duties could result in travel involves additional apprehension about potential denial at immigration for non-compliance. Or, I might defer settlement for inheritance processing after death. Neither alternative seems acceptable.

Possessing American travel documentation constitutes a privilege that countless immigrants desperately seek to acquire. Yet this advantage that creates discomfort personally, so I'm taking action, despite the $2,350 cost to complete the process.

The threatening formal photograph of Donald Trump, scowling toward visitors at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I recited the renunciation oath – supplied the ultimate impetus. I recognize I'm selecting the correct path for my situation and when the consular officer inquires regarding external pressure, I truthfully answer no.

Two weeks afterward I obtained my official relinquishment document and my canceled passport to retain as mementos. My identity will supposedly be published on a federal registry. I simply hope that subsequent travel authorization will be approved during potential return trips.