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After 60 years together, United States, I'm ending our relationship. While I still hold affection for you, the passion has diminished and I'm making the difficult decision to separate. This departure is voluntary, though it brings sadness, because you possess countless wonderful qualities.

Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit

From your breathtaking national parks, towering redwood forests and distinctive animal species to the magical illumination of lightning bugs amid cornfields on summer evenings and the vibrant autumn foliage, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your ability to spark creativity appears limitless, as demonstrated by the inspiring individuals I've encountered within your borders. Numerous precious recollections center on tastes that permanently connect me to you – cinnamon spice, seasonal squash dessert, fruit preserves. 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 qualified as an "unintentional U.S. citizen" since birth due to my father and ten generations preceding him, starting in 1636 and featuring military participants in foundational conflicts, DNA connections to past leadership plus multiple eras of settlers 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 ancestor fought as a Marine in France during the first world war; his widowed great-grandmother managed a farm with nine children; his relative helped rebuild San Francisco after the 1906 earthquake; while another ancestor ran for political office.

However, notwithstanding this classic U.S. background, I discover myself increasingly disconnected to the nation. This is particularly true considering the confusing and concerning political atmosphere that makes me doubt what American identity represents. This phenomenon has been labeled "citizen insecurity" – and I recognize the symptoms. Now I desire to create distance.

Practical Considerations and Financial Burden

I've only resided within America for two years and haven't returned in nearly a decade. I've maintained Australian nationality for most of my life and have no plans to live, work or study within America subsequently. And I'm confident I won't require military rescue – thus no functional requirement to maintain American nationality.

Additionally, the requirement as an American national to submit annual tax returns, despite neither living or employed 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 financial compliance is mandatory – it's documented within travel documents.

Admittedly, a fiscal treaty operates between Australia and the U.S., designed to prevent duplicate payments, yet filing costs vary between A$1,200 and A$3,500 annually even for basic returns, and the procedure represents highly challenging and complex to complete each January, as the American fiscal cycle begins.

Compliance Concerns and Final Decision

I've been informed that ultimately the U.S. government will enforce compliance and administer substantial fines 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 annual expense and stress associated with documentation becomes troubling and basic financial principles suggest it represents poor investment. However, ignoring American fiscal duties could result in travel involves additional apprehension regarding possible border rejection for non-compliance. Or, I might defer settlement for inheritance processing after death. Both options appear unsatisfactory.

Holding a U.S. passport represents an opportunity many newcomers earnestly attempt to obtain. But it's a privilege that feels uncomfortable for me, so I'm taking action, despite the $2,350 cost to finalize the procedure.

The intimidating official portrait featuring the former president, glowering at attendees at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I recited the renunciation oath – provided the final motivation. I recognize I'm selecting the correct path 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 retain as mementos. My name will reportedly appear within government records. I simply hope that future visa applications gets granted when I decide to visit again.