America, I Still Find Plenty to Love About You, But We Have to Break Up: These Are the Reasons I'm Giving Up My US Citizenship
After 60 years together, United States, I'm ending our relationship. Though fondness remains, the romantic connection has faded and the time has come to go our separate ways. I'm leaving by choice, though it brings sadness, because there remains much to admire about you.
Scenic Wonders and Innovative Energy
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 brilliant fall colors, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your capacity to ignite innovation seems boundless, as evidenced through the motivational people 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. But, America, you've become increasingly difficult to understand.
Ancestral History and Changing Connection
Were I drafting a farewell message to America, those would be the opening words. I've qualified as an "unintentional U.S. citizen" from delivery due to my father and centuries of ancestors before him, starting in 1636 including military participants in foundational conflicts, DNA connections to past leadership and generations of pioneers who traversed the country, from Massachusetts and New Jersey toward central and western regions.
I experience deep honor in my family's history and their role in the national story. My dad grew up during the Great Depression; his grandfather served with the military overseas during the first world war; his widowed great-grandmother managed agricultural land with numerous offspring; his relative helped reconstruct the city following the seismic disaster; and his grandfather campaigned as a state senator.
However, notwithstanding this classic U.S. background, I discover myself increasingly disconnected to the nation. This is particularly true given the perplexing and concerning political atmosphere that makes me doubt what American identity represents. This phenomenon has been labeled "citizen insecurity" – and I believe I experience it. Now I desire to create distance.
Logistical Factors and Economic Strain
I merely lived in the United States for two years and haven't returned in nearly a decade. I've maintained Australian nationality for almost forty years and no intention to live, work or study within America subsequently. And I'm confident I won't require military rescue – so there's no practical necessity to maintain American nationality.
Additionally, the requirement as an American national to file yearly financial documentation, despite neither living or employed there nor qualifying for benefits, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. America stands with only two nations worldwide – the other being Eritrea – that impose taxation according to nationality instead of location. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's documented within travel documents.
Certainly, a tax agreement exists between Australia and the U.S., designed to prevent duplicate payments, 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, as the American fiscal cycle begins.
Compliance Concerns and Final Decision
Authorities have indicated that ultimately the U.S. government will enforce compliance and administer substantial fines on delinquent individuals. These measures affect not only extremely wealthy figures like Boris Johnson but all Americans overseas need to meet requirements.
While taxation isn't the primary reason for my decision, the recurring cost and anxiety of filing returns proves distressing and fundamental economics indicates it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities 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. 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, thus I'm implementing changes, although requiring significant payment to complete the process.
The intimidating official portrait featuring the former president, scowling toward visitors within the diplomatic facility – where I recited the renunciation oath – supplied the ultimate impetus. I recognize I'm choosing the proper direction for my circumstances and during the official questioning about potential coercion, I honestly respond negatively.
A fortnight later I obtained my official relinquishment document and my canceled passport to retain as mementos. My identity will supposedly be published on a federal registry. I merely wish that subsequent travel authorization will be approved when I decide to visit again.