After six decades together, United States, our partnership must conclude. Though fondness remains, the romantic connection has faded and the time has come to go our separate ways. This departure is voluntary, though it brings sadness, because you possess countless wonderful qualities.
From your breathtaking national parks, soaring ancient trees and distinctive animal species to the magical illumination of lightning bugs between crop rows during warm nights and the brilliant fall colors, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your ability to spark creativity appears limitless, as demonstrated by the inspiring individuals I've met throughout your territory. Many of my most cherished memories center on tastes that permanently connect me to you – cinnamon spice, pumpkin pie, fruit preserves. However, United States, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.
Were I drafting a farewell message to America, 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, commencing in the seventeenth century including revolutionary and civil war soldiers, DNA connections to past leadership plus multiple eras of settlers who journeyed across the nation, beginning in northeastern states to Ohio, Pennsylvania, Illinois and Kansas.
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 in the global conflict; his single-parent ancestor operated a farm with nine children; his great-uncle assisted reconstruct the city following the seismic disaster; and his grandfather campaigned for political office.
Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I discover myself increasingly disconnected to the nation. 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 "citizen insecurity" – and I recognize the symptoms. Currently I wish to establish separation.
I merely lived within America a brief period and haven't returned in nearly a decade. I've held Australian citizenship for almost forty years and no intention to reside, employment or education within America subsequently. Furthermore, I'm certain I won't require military rescue – so there's no practical necessity for me to retain American nationality.
Additionally, the requirement as an American national to submit annual tax returns, despite neither living nor working there nor qualifying for benefits, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. America stands with merely two countries globally – the other being Eritrea – that impose taxation according to nationality instead of location. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's documented in our passport backs.
Admittedly, a fiscal treaty operates connecting both nations, designed to prevent duplicate payments, but preparation expenses range from substantial amounts yearly for straightforward declarations, and the procedure represents extremely demanding and convoluted to complete each January, when the U.S. tax period commences.
I've been informed that ultimately American officials will mandate conformity and impose significant penalties against non-compliant citizens. These measures affect not only 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 of filing returns proves distressing and basic financial principles suggest it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities could result in travel involves additional apprehension regarding possible border rejection due to irregular status. Or, I might defer settlement for inheritance processing after death. Both options appear unsatisfactory.
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 intimidating official portrait featuring the former president, glowering at attendees within the diplomatic facility – where I recited the renunciation oath – provided the final motivation. I understand I'm selecting the correct path for my situation and during the official questioning about potential coercion, I truthfully answer no.
Two weeks afterward I obtained my official relinquishment document and my voided travel papers to keep as souvenirs. My name will reportedly appear within government records. I simply hope that future visa applications gets granted when I decide to visit again.