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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, despite the sorrow it brings, because there remains much to admire about you.

Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit

From your breathtaking national parks, towering redwood forests and distinctive animal species to the enchanting glow of fireflies between crop rows during warm nights and the brilliant fall colors, your natural splendor is extraordinary. Your capacity to ignite innovation appears limitless, as evidenced through the inspiring individuals I've met throughout your territory. Many of my most cherished memories center on tastes that permanently connect me to you – aromatic cinnamon, seasonal squash dessert, fruit preserves. However, United States, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.

Ancestral History and Changing Connection

Were I drafting a farewell message to America, those would be the opening words. I've been what's termed an "unintentional U.S. citizen" since birth due to my father and centuries of ancestors before him, starting in 1636 and featuring military participants in foundational conflicts, shared genetic material with a former president plus multiple eras of settlers who traversed the country, beginning in northeastern states to Ohio, Pennsylvania, Illinois and Kansas.

I feel tremendous pride in my family's history and their contributions to America's narrative. My father experienced childhood during the Great Depression; his grandfather served as a Marine in France in the global conflict; his single-parent ancestor operated a farm with nine children; his great-uncle assisted reconstruct the city after the 1906 earthquake; and his grandfather campaigned for political office.

Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I discover myself increasingly disconnected to the nation. This feeling intensifies considering the confusing and concerning political atmosphere that makes me doubt what American identity represents. This phenomenon has been labeled "national belonging anxiety" – and I believe I experience it. 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 almost forty years and have no plans 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 U.S. citizenship.

Furthermore, the obligation 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 impose taxation based on citizenship rather than residence. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's documented in our passport backs.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists connecting both nations, designed to prevent duplicate payments, but preparation expenses range 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, when the U.S. tax period commences.

Compliance Concerns and Final Decision

Authorities have indicated that eventually the U.S. government will enforce compliance and administer substantial fines against non-compliant citizens. These measures affect not only extremely wealthy figures like Boris Johnson but every U.S. citizen abroad must fulfill obligations.

Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my decision, the recurring cost and anxiety associated with documentation becomes troubling 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. Or, I might defer settlement until my estate handles it posthumously. Neither alternative seems acceptable.

Possessing American travel documentation constitutes a privilege that countless immigrants earnestly attempt to obtain. Yet this advantage that feels uncomfortable for me, thus I'm implementing changes, despite the $2,350 cost to finalize the procedure.

The threatening formal photograph of Donald Trump, scowling toward visitors at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I recited the renunciation oath – provided the final motivation. I understand I'm selecting the correct path for my circumstances and when the consular officer inquires about potential coercion, I honestly respond negatively.

Two weeks afterward I obtained my official relinquishment document and my canceled passport to keep as souvenirs. My identity will supposedly be published within government records. I merely wish that future visa applications gets granted during potential return trips.