🔗 Share this article

After 60 years together, America, I'm ending our relationship. Though fondness remains, the romantic connection has faded and the time has come to go our separate ways. I'm leaving by choice, though it brings sadness, because you possess countless wonderful qualities.

Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit

From your breathtaking national parks, soaring ancient trees and unique wildlife to the magical illumination of lightning bugs between crop rows during warm nights and the brilliant fall colors, your natural splendor is extraordinary. Your capacity to ignite innovation seems boundless, as evidenced through the inspiring individuals I've encountered within your borders. Many of my most cherished memories center on tastes that permanently connect me to you – aromatic cinnamon, pumpkin pie, fruit preserves. However, United States, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.

Ancestral History and Changing Connection

If I were composing a separation letter 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, DNA connections to past leadership plus multiple eras of settlers who traversed the country, beginning in northeastern states toward central and western regions.

I experience deep honor in my family's history and their contributions to America's narrative. My dad grew up during the Great Depression; his ancestor fought as a Marine in France in the global conflict; his single-parent ancestor operated agricultural land with numerous offspring; his relative helped rebuild San Francisco following the seismic disaster; and his grandfather campaigned for political office.

Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I discover myself increasingly disconnected with the country. This feeling intensifies considering the confusing 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.

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 most of my life and no intention to reside, employment or education within America subsequently. And I'm confident I'll never need emergency extraction – so there's no practical necessity for me to retain American nationality.

Additionally, the requirement as an American national to submit annual tax returns, although not residing 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 within travel documents.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists between Australia and the U.S., intended to avoid double taxation, but preparation expenses range from substantial amounts yearly for straightforward declarations, 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 eventually the U.S. government will enforce compliance 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 need to meet requirements.

While taxation isn't the primary reason for my decision, the recurring cost and anxiety of filing returns proves distressing and fundamental economics indicates it represents poor investment. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities would mean that visiting involves additional apprehension regarding possible border rejection due to irregular status. Or, I might defer settlement until my estate handles it posthumously. Neither alternative seems acceptable.

Holding a U.S. passport represents a privilege that countless immigrants desperately seek to acquire. Yet this advantage that feels uncomfortable for me, thus I'm implementing changes, despite the $2,350 cost to finalize the procedure.

The intimidating official portrait featuring the former president, scowling toward visitors 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 regarding external pressure, I truthfully answer no.

Two weeks afterward I received my certificate of renunciation and my canceled passport to retain as mementos. My name will reportedly appear on a federal registry. I simply hope that subsequent travel authorization will be approved during potential return trips.