USA, There's Still Plenty to Adore About You, But We Have to Break Up: These Are the Reasons I'm Giving Up My US Citizenship

After 60 years together, America, I'm ending our relationship. Though fondness remains, the passion has diminished and the time has come to go our separate ways. This departure is voluntary, despite the sorrow it brings, because you possess countless wonderful qualities.

Scenic Wonders and Innovative Energy

Beginning with your magnificent protected lands, soaring ancient trees and unique wildlife to the enchanting glow of fireflies between crop rows during warm nights and the brilliant fall colors, your natural splendor is extraordinary. Your capacity to ignite innovation appears limitless, as evidenced through the motivational people I've encountered within your borders. Numerous precious recollections center on tastes that permanently connect me to you – cinnamon spice, pumpkin pie, fruit preserves. But, America, you've become increasingly difficult to understand.

Family Legacy and Shifting Identity

If I were composing a separation letter to the United States, those would be the opening words. I've been what's termed an "accidental American" from delivery because of my paternal lineage and centuries of ancestors before him, starting in 1636 and featuring military participants in foundational conflicts, shared genetic material with a former president 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 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 rebuild San Francisco after the 1906 earthquake; and his grandfather campaigned for political office.

Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I find myself no longer feeling connected with the country. This feeling intensifies considering the confusing and alarming governmental climate that leaves me questioning what American identity represents. This phenomenon has been labeled "citizen insecurity" – and I believe I experience it. Now I desire to create distance.

Practical Considerations and Financial Burden

I've only resided within America for two years and haven't returned for eight years. I've maintained Australian nationality for most of my life and no intention 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.

Additionally, the requirement I face as a U.S. citizen to file yearly financial documentation, although not residing or employed there or eligible for services, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. The United States ranks among only two nations worldwide – including Eritrea – that implement levies according to nationality instead of location. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's documented in our passport backs.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists connecting both nations, designed to prevent duplicate payments, but preparation expenses range between A$1,200 and A$3,500 annually for straightforward declarations, and the process proves extremely demanding and convoluted to complete each January, when the U.S. tax period commences.

Regulatory Issues and Ultimate Choice

Authorities have indicated that ultimately the U.S. government will enforce compliance and impose significant penalties on delinquent individuals. This enforcement doesn't target extremely wealthy figures like Boris Johnson but all Americans overseas need to meet requirements.

Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my renunciation, the annual expense and stress associated with documentation becomes troubling and basic financial principles suggest it represents poor investment. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities could result in travel involves additional apprehension about potential denial at immigration for non-compliance. Alternatively, I could postpone resolution 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. But it's a privilege that creates discomfort personally, so I'm taking action, despite the $2,350 cost to finalize the procedure.

The intimidating official portrait of Donald Trump, scowling toward visitors at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I recited the renunciation oath – supplied the ultimate impetus. I recognize I'm choosing the proper direction for my circumstances and during the official questioning regarding external pressure, I truthfully answer no.

A fortnight later I obtained my official relinquishment document and my canceled passport to keep as souvenirs. My identity will supposedly be published on a federal registry. I simply hope that future visa applications gets granted when I decide to visit again.