USA, There's Still Plenty to Love About You, But It's Time to Part Ways: Here's Why I'm Giving Up My US Citizenship

After 60 years together, United States, I'm ending our relationship. Though fondness remains, the romantic connection has faded 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

Beginning with your magnificent protected lands, soaring ancient trees and distinctive animal species to the enchanting glow of fireflies amid cornfields on summer evenings and the vibrant autumn foliage, your natural splendor is extraordinary. Your capacity to ignite innovation seems boundless, as demonstrated by the motivational people I've met throughout your territory. Many of my most cherished memories center on tastes that permanently connect me to you – aromatic cinnamon, seasonal squash dessert, grape jelly. But, America, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.

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 "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, shared genetic material with a former president 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 contributions to America's narrative. My dad grew up through economic hardship; his grandfather served as a Marine in France during the first world war; his single-parent ancestor operated agricultural land with numerous offspring; his relative helped rebuild San Francisco after the 1906 earthquake; and his grandfather campaigned as a state senator.

However, notwithstanding this classic U.S. background, I discover myself increasingly disconnected with the country. This is particularly true considering the confusing and alarming governmental climate that leaves me questioning the meaning of national belonging. This phenomenon has been labeled "national belonging anxiety" – and I recognize the symptoms. Currently I wish to establish separation.

Practical Considerations and Financial Burden

I merely lived in the United States for two years and haven't returned 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. Furthermore, I'm certain I'll never need emergency extraction – so there's no practical necessity to maintain American nationality.

Furthermore, the obligation I face as a U.S. citizen to file yearly financial documentation, although not residing or employed 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 tax conformity is compulsory – it's printed within travel documents.

Admittedly, a fiscal treaty operates between Australia and the U.S., designed to prevent duplicate payments, but preparation expenses range between A$1,200 and A$3,500 annually for straightforward declarations, and the procedure represents extremely demanding and convoluted 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 against non-compliant citizens. These measures affect not only high-profile individuals but all Americans overseas need to meet requirements.

Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my renunciation, the recurring cost and anxiety associated with documentation becomes troubling and basic financial principles suggest it represents poor investment. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities would mean that visiting involves additional apprehension about potential denial at immigration for non-compliance. Or, I might defer settlement for inheritance processing after death. Both options appear unsatisfactory.

Holding a U.S. passport represents a privilege that countless immigrants desperately seek to acquire. But it's a privilege that feels uncomfortable for me, 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 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 circumstances and during the official questioning regarding external pressure, I truthfully answer no.

A fortnight later I received my certificate of renunciation and my canceled passport to retain as mementos. My identity will supposedly be published within government records. I merely wish that future visa applications gets granted when I decide to visit again.