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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. 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 environmental beauty is remarkable. Your ability to spark creativity appears limitless, as demonstrated by the inspiring individuals I've met throughout your territory. Numerous precious recollections revolve around flavors that will forever remind me of you – aromatic cinnamon, seasonal squash dessert, grape jelly. But, America, you've become increasingly difficult to understand.

Ancestral History and Changing Connection

If I were composing a separation letter to the United States, 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 centuries of ancestors before him, commencing in the seventeenth century and featuring revolutionary and civil war soldiers, DNA connections to past leadership and generations of pioneers who journeyed across the nation, from Massachusetts and New Jersey toward central and western regions.

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 as a Marine in France during the first world war; his widowed great-grandmother managed agricultural land with numerous offspring; his great-uncle assisted rebuild San Francisco after the 1906 earthquake; while another ancestor ran as a state senator.

Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I discover myself increasingly disconnected to the nation. This feeling intensifies considering the confusing and alarming governmental climate that makes me doubt the meaning of national belonging. Experts have termed this "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 a brief period and haven't visited for eight years. I've held Australian citizenship for almost forty years and have no plans to reside, employment or education within America subsequently. Furthermore, I'm certain I'll never need emergency extraction – so there's no practical necessity for me to retain U.S. citizenship.

Furthermore, the obligation I face as a U.S. citizen to submit annual tax returns, although not residing or employed there nor qualifying for benefits, becomes onerous and stressful. America stands with merely two countries globally – the other being Eritrea – that implement levies based on citizenship rather than residence. And financial compliance is mandatory – it's printed in our passport backs.

Admittedly, a fiscal treaty operates between Australia and the U.S., intended to avoid double taxation, yet filing costs vary between A$1,200 and A$3,500 annually even for basic returns, and the process proves extremely demanding and convoluted 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 on delinquent individuals. This enforcement doesn't target extremely wealthy figures like Boris Johnson 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 fundamental economics indicates it represents poor investment. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities could result in travel including extra worry regarding possible border rejection due to irregular status. Or, I might defer settlement for inheritance processing after death. Neither alternative seems acceptable.

Possessing American travel documentation constitutes an opportunity many newcomers 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 threatening formal photograph featuring the former president, glowering at attendees at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I performed the citizenship relinquishment – supplied the ultimate impetus. I recognize I'm selecting the correct path for my situation and when the consular officer inquires 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 future visa applications gets granted during potential return trips.