After 60 years together, America, I'm ending our relationship. While I still hold affection for you, the passion has diminished and the time has come to go our separate ways. This departure is voluntary, though it brings sadness, because you possess countless wonderful qualities.
Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit
From your breathtaking national parks, soaring ancient trees and distinctive animal species to the enchanting glow of fireflies amid cornfields on summer evenings and the vibrant autumn foliage, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your capacity to ignite innovation appears limitless, as evidenced through the motivational people I've met throughout your territory. Many of my most cherished memories revolve around flavors that permanently connect me to you – cinnamon spice, pumpkin pie, grape jelly. However, United States, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.
Family Legacy and Shifting Identity
If I were composing a separation letter to America, that's how it would begin. I've been what's termed an "unintentional U.S. citizen" since birth because of my paternal lineage and centuries of ancestors before him, starting in 1636 including military participants in foundational conflicts, DNA connections to past leadership and generations of pioneers who journeyed across the nation, beginning in northeastern states to Ohio, Pennsylvania, Illinois and Kansas.
I experience deep honor in my family's history and their role in the national story. My father experienced childhood through economic hardship; his grandfather served with the military overseas 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 for political office.
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. Experts have termed this "citizen insecurity" – and I recognize the symptoms. Now I desire to create distance.
Logistical Factors and Economic Strain
I merely lived in the United States for two years and haven't visited in nearly a decade. I've maintained Australian nationality for almost forty years 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 for me to retain U.S. citizenship.
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 merely two countries globally – including Eritrea – that implement levies according to nationality instead of location. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's printed within travel documents.
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 eventually American officials will mandate conformity and impose significant penalties against non-compliant citizens. This enforcement doesn't target high-profile individuals but every U.S. citizen abroad need to meet requirements.
While taxation isn't the primary reason for my decision, the annual expense and stress associated with documentation becomes troubling 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 due to irregular status. Alternatively, I could postpone resolution for inheritance processing after death. Neither alternative seems acceptable.
Possessing American travel documentation constitutes a privilege that countless immigrants earnestly attempt to obtain. But it's a privilege that creates discomfort personally, so I'm taking action, although requiring significant payment to complete the process.
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 situation and during the official questioning regarding external pressure, 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 on a federal registry. I merely wish that subsequent travel authorization gets granted during potential return trips.
