After 60 years together, United States, our partnership must conclude. While I still hold affection for you, 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.
From your breathtaking national parks, towering redwood forests and unique wildlife to the enchanting glow of fireflies between crop rows during warm nights and the vibrant autumn foliage, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your capacity to ignite innovation appears limitless, as demonstrated by the inspiring individuals I've met throughout your territory. Many of my most cherished memories center on tastes that will forever remind me of you – cinnamon spice, seasonal squash dessert, grape jelly. However, United States, you've become increasingly difficult to understand.
Were I drafting a farewell message to the United States, those would be the opening words. I've been what's termed an "accidental American" from delivery due to my father and centuries of ancestors before him, starting in 1636 and featuring military participants in foundational conflicts, DNA connections to past leadership and generations of pioneers who journeyed across the nation, beginning in northeastern states toward central and western regions.
I feel tremendous pride in my family's history and their contributions to America's narrative. 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 following the seismic disaster; while another ancestor ran as a state senator.
However, notwithstanding this classic U.S. background, I find myself no longer feeling connected to the nation. This feeling intensifies considering the confusing and alarming governmental climate that makes me doubt what American identity represents. This phenomenon has been labeled "citizen insecurity" – and I believe I experience it. Currently I wish to establish separation.
I've only resided in the United States a brief period and haven't visited for eight years. I've maintained Australian nationality for almost forty years and have no plans to live, work or study within America subsequently. Furthermore, I'm certain I'll never need emergency extraction – thus no functional requirement for me to retain U.S. citizenship.
Additionally, the requirement as an American national to file yearly financial documentation, although not residing or employed there nor qualifying for benefits, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. The United States ranks among only two nations worldwide – the other being Eritrea – that impose taxation based on citizenship rather than residence. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's documented within travel documents.
Admittedly, a fiscal treaty operates connecting both nations, designed to prevent duplicate payments, yet filing costs vary from substantial amounts yearly even for basic returns, and the process proves extremely demanding and convoluted to undertake every new year, as the American fiscal cycle begins.
I've been informed that ultimately the U.S. government will enforce compliance and impose significant penalties on delinquent individuals. 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 renunciation, the annual expense and stress of filing returns proves distressing and basic financial principles suggest it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. However, ignoring American fiscal duties would mean that visiting 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 earnestly attempt to obtain. But it's a privilege that feels uncomfortable for me, thus I'm implementing changes, although requiring significant payment to complete the process.
The threatening formal photograph of Donald Trump, 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 during the official questioning about potential coercion, I honestly respond negatively.
Two weeks afterward I received my certificate of renunciation and my canceled passport to keep as souvenirs. My name will reportedly appear within government records. I simply hope that subsequent travel authorization gets granted during potential return trips.