🔗 Share this article

After six decades 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.

Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit

From your breathtaking national parks, towering redwood forests and distinctive animal species to the enchanting glow of fireflies between crop rows during warm nights and the vibrant autumn foliage, your natural splendor is extraordinary. Your ability to spark creativity seems boundless, as demonstrated by the inspiring individuals I've encountered within your borders. Many of my most cherished memories revolve around flavors that will forever remind me of you – cinnamon spice, seasonal squash dessert, grape jelly. However, United States, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.

Ancestral History and Changing Connection

If I were composing a separation letter to America, those would be the opening words. I've qualified as an "accidental American" from delivery because of my paternal lineage and ten generations preceding him, commencing in the seventeenth century including military participants in foundational conflicts, DNA connections to past leadership plus multiple eras of settlers who journeyed across the nation, from Massachusetts and New Jersey to Ohio, Pennsylvania, Illinois and Kansas.

I feel tremendous pride in my family's history and their contributions to America's narrative. My father experienced childhood during the Great Depression; his grandfather served as a Marine in France in the global conflict; his single-parent ancestor operated agricultural land with numerous offspring; his relative helped reconstruct the city following the seismic disaster; while another ancestor ran for political office.

However, notwithstanding this classic U.S. background, I discover myself increasingly disconnected to the nation. This is particularly true given the perplexing and concerning political atmosphere that leaves me questioning the meaning of national belonging. This phenomenon has been labeled "national belonging anxiety" – and I recognize the symptoms. Now I desire to create distance.

Practical Considerations and Financial Burden

I've only resided within America for two years and haven't returned in nearly a decade. I've held Australian citizenship for most of my life and no intention to live, work or study within America subsequently. Furthermore, I'm certain I won't require military rescue – thus no functional requirement for me to retain U.S. citizenship.

Furthermore, the obligation as an American national to submit annual tax returns, despite neither living nor working there nor qualifying for benefits, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. The United States ranks among merely two countries globally – including Eritrea – that impose taxation based on citizenship rather than residence. And financial compliance is mandatory – it's printed in our passport backs.

Admittedly, a fiscal treaty operates connecting both nations, designed to prevent duplicate payments, yet filing costs vary 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.

Regulatory Issues and Ultimate Choice

I've been informed that eventually the U.S. government will enforce compliance 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 associated with documentation becomes troubling and basic financial principles suggest it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities would mean that visiting involves additional apprehension about potential denial at immigration for non-compliance. Alternatively, I could postpone resolution for inheritance processing after death. Both options appear unsatisfactory.

Possessing American travel documentation constitutes an opportunity many newcomers earnestly attempt to obtain. But it's a privilege that creates discomfort personally, so I'm taking action, despite the $2,350 cost to finalize the procedure.

The intimidating official portrait featuring the former president, glowering at attendees within the diplomatic facility – where I performed the citizenship relinquishment – 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 truthfully answer no.

A fortnight later I obtained my official relinquishment document and my canceled passport to keep as souvenirs. My name will reportedly appear on a federal registry. I merely wish that future visa applications will be approved when I decide to visit again.