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After six decades 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. This departure is voluntary, though it brings sadness, because you possess countless wonderful qualities.

Scenic Wonders and Innovative Energy

From your breathtaking national parks, towering redwood forests and unique wildlife to the enchanting glow of fireflies amid cornfields on summer evenings and the brilliant fall colors, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your ability to spark creativity seems boundless, as demonstrated by the inspiring individuals I've met throughout your territory. Numerous precious recollections center on tastes that permanently connect me to you – aromatic cinnamon, pumpkin pie, grape jelly. But, America, you've become increasingly difficult to understand.

Ancestral History and Changing Connection

If I were composing a separation letter to America, those would be the opening words. I've been what's termed an "unintentional U.S. citizen" since birth because of my paternal lineage and ten generations preceding him, commencing in the seventeenth century and featuring revolutionary and civil war soldiers, shared genetic material with a former president and generations of pioneers who journeyed across the nation, beginning in northeastern states toward central and western regions.

I experience deep honor regarding my ancestral background and their role in the national story. My dad grew up during the Great Depression; his grandfather served with the military overseas in the global conflict; his widowed great-grandmother managed agricultural land with numerous offspring; his relative helped rebuild San Francisco following the seismic disaster; and his grandfather campaigned as a state senator.

Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I discover myself increasingly disconnected to the nation. This is particularly true given the perplexing and alarming governmental climate that leaves me questioning 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 merely lived within America a brief period and haven't visited for eight years. I've held Australian citizenship for most of my life and no intention to reside, employment or education within America subsequently. And I'm confident I won't require military rescue – so there's no practical necessity for me to retain American nationality.

Additionally, the requirement as an American national to file yearly financial documentation, although not residing nor working there nor qualifying for benefits, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. The United States ranks among merely two countries globally – the other being Eritrea – that implement levies according to nationality instead of location. And financial compliance is mandatory – it's printed within travel documents.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists connecting both nations, designed to prevent duplicate payments, yet filing costs vary between A$1,200 and A$3,500 annually for straightforward declarations, and the process proves extremely demanding and convoluted to complete each January, as the American fiscal cycle begins.

Regulatory Issues and Ultimate Choice

I've been informed that eventually the U.S. government will enforce compliance and impose significant penalties against non-compliant citizens. This enforcement doesn't target high-profile individuals but all Americans overseas must fulfill obligations.

Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my renunciation, the recurring cost and anxiety associated with documentation becomes troubling and basic financial principles suggest it represents poor investment. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities would mean that visiting including extra worry about potential denial at immigration 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 an opportunity many newcomers desperately seek to acquire. But it's a privilege that creates discomfort personally, so I'm taking action, although requiring significant payment to finalize the procedure.

The intimidating official portrait featuring the former president, glowering at attendees within the diplomatic facility – where I performed the citizenship relinquishment – provided the final motivation. I recognize I'm selecting the correct path for my situation and when the consular officer inquires regarding external pressure, I truthfully answer no.

A fortnight later 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 future visa applications gets granted when I decide to visit again.