America, I Still Find Plenty to Adore About You, But We Have to Break Up: Here's Why I'm Giving Up My American Citizenship
After 60 years together, America, our partnership must conclude. While I still hold affection for you, the romantic connection has faded and I'm making the difficult decision to separate. This departure is voluntary, despite the sorrow it brings, because there remains much to admire about you.
Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit
From your breathtaking national parks, towering redwood forests and unique wildlife to the magical illumination of lightning bugs between crop rows during warm nights and the brilliant fall colors, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your ability to spark creativity seems boundless, as evidenced through the inspiring individuals I've met throughout your territory. Numerous precious recollections center on tastes that will forever remind me of you – cinnamon spice, pumpkin pie, fruit preserves. However, United States, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.
Family Legacy and Shifting Identity
If I were composing a separation letter to the United States, that's how it would begin. I've qualified as an "accidental American" from delivery because of my paternal lineage and ten generations preceding him, commencing in the seventeenth century and featuring revolutionary and civil war soldiers, DNA connections to past leadership plus multiple eras of settlers who traversed the country, from Massachusetts and New Jersey to Ohio, Pennsylvania, Illinois and Kansas.
I feel tremendous pride 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 great-uncle assisted rebuild San Francisco after the 1906 earthquake; and his grandfather campaigned as a state senator.
However, notwithstanding this classic U.S. background, I find myself no longer feeling connected with the country. This feeling intensifies considering the confusing and concerning political atmosphere that makes me doubt what American identity represents. Experts have termed this "national belonging anxiety" – and I recognize the symptoms. Currently I wish to establish separation.
Practical Considerations and Financial Burden
I've only resided in the United States for two years and haven't returned for eight years. I've maintained Australian nationality for most of my life and have no plans to live, work or study in the US again. And I'm confident I won't require military rescue – so there's no practical necessity to maintain American nationality.
Furthermore, the obligation I face as a U.S. citizen to submit annual tax returns, despite neither living nor working there or eligible for services, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. America stands with only two nations worldwide – including Eritrea – that implement levies based on citizenship rather than residence. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's documented in our passport backs.
Admittedly, a fiscal treaty operates connecting both nations, intended to avoid double taxation, but preparation expenses range between A$1,200 and A$3,500 annually for straightforward declarations, and the procedure represents highly challenging and complex to undertake every new year, when the U.S. tax period commences.
Regulatory Issues and Ultimate Choice
Authorities have indicated that eventually American officials will mandate conformity and administer substantial fines against non-compliant citizens. This enforcement doesn't target high-profile individuals but all Americans overseas need to meet requirements.
While taxation isn't the primary reason for my renunciation, the recurring cost and anxiety associated with documentation becomes troubling and fundamental economics indicates it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. However, ignoring American fiscal duties would mean that visiting including extra worry regarding possible border rejection for non-compliance. Alternatively, I could postpone resolution until my estate handles it posthumously. Both options appear unsatisfactory.
Holding a U.S. passport represents a privilege that countless immigrants earnestly attempt to obtain. But it's a privilege that feels uncomfortable for me, so I'm taking action, although requiring significant payment to complete the process.
The intimidating official portrait featuring the former president, scowling toward visitors 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 situation and during the official questioning about potential coercion, I truthfully answer no.
A fortnight later 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 merely wish that future visa applications will be approved when I decide to visit again.