After 60 years together, United States, I'm ending our relationship. Though fondness remains, the passion has diminished and the time has come to go our separate ways. I'm leaving by choice, despite the sorrow it brings, because there remains much to admire about you.
Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit
From your breathtaking national parks, soaring ancient trees and unique wildlife to the magical illumination of lightning bugs amid cornfields on summer evenings and the brilliant fall colors, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your capacity to ignite innovation appears limitless, as evidenced through the inspiring individuals I've met throughout your territory. Many of my most cherished memories revolve around flavors that permanently connect me to you – cinnamon spice, 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 qualified as an "accidental American" from delivery due to my father and ten generations preceding him, starting in 1636 and featuring military participants in foundational conflicts, DNA connections to past leadership and generations of pioneers who traversed the country, 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 dad grew up through economic hardship; his ancestor fought as a Marine in France during the first world war; his widowed great-grandmother managed a farm with nine children; his great-uncle assisted reconstruct the city after the 1906 earthquake; and his grandfather campaigned as a state senator.
Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I find myself no longer feeling connected to the nation. This is particularly true considering the confusing and concerning political atmosphere that makes me doubt the meaning of national belonging. This phenomenon has been labeled "citizen insecurity" – and I recognize the symptoms. Now I desire to create distance.
Logistical Factors and Economic Strain
I've only resided in the United States a brief period and haven't returned in nearly a decade. I've held Australian citizenship for most of my life and have no plans to live, work or study in the US again. Furthermore, I'm certain I won't require military rescue – so there's no practical necessity to maintain U.S. citizenship.
Furthermore, the obligation as an American national to file yearly financial documentation, despite neither living nor working there or eligible for services, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. America stands with merely two countries globally – the other being Eritrea – that implement levies according to nationality instead of location. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's printed in our passport backs.
Admittedly, a fiscal treaty operates connecting both nations, designed to prevent duplicate payments, 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.
Compliance Concerns and Final Decision
I've been informed that ultimately the U.S. government will enforce compliance and administer substantial fines on delinquent individuals. These measures affect not only extremely wealthy figures like Boris Johnson but all Americans overseas must fulfill obligations.
Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my renunciation, the recurring cost and anxiety of filing returns proves distressing 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 until my estate handles it posthumously. 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 finalize the procedure.
The threatening formal photograph featuring the former president, glowering at attendees within the diplomatic facility – where I recited the renunciation oath – supplied the ultimate impetus. I understand I'm selecting the correct path for my circumstances and when the consular officer inquires about potential coercion, I truthfully answer no.
Two weeks afterward I obtained my official relinquishment document and my voided travel papers to retain as mementos. My name will reportedly appear on a federal registry. I simply hope that future visa applications will be approved during potential return trips.
