USA, I Still Find Plenty to Adore About You, But We Have to Break Up: These Are the Reasons I'm Giving Up My American Citizenship
After 60 years together, United States, I'm ending our relationship. While I still hold affection for you, the romantic connection has faded and the time has come to go our separate ways. I'm leaving by choice, despite the sorrow it brings, because there remains much to admire about you.
Scenic Wonders and Innovative Energy
From your breathtaking national parks, soaring ancient trees and distinctive animal species to the enchanting glow of fireflies amid cornfields on summer evenings and the vibrant autumn foliage, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your capacity to ignite innovation appears limitless, as evidenced through the inspiring individuals I've encountered within your borders. Many of my most cherished memories center on tastes that permanently connect me to you – aromatic cinnamon, pumpkin pie, grape jelly. But, America, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.
Ancestral History and Changing Connection
Were I drafting a farewell message to America, that's how it would begin. 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 revolutionary and civil war soldiers, DNA connections to past leadership plus multiple eras of settlers who traversed the country, beginning in northeastern states toward central and western regions.
I experience deep honor regarding my ancestral background and their contributions to America's narrative. My father experienced childhood through economic hardship; his ancestor fought with the military overseas in the global conflict; his widowed great-grandmother managed agricultural land with numerous offspring; his great-uncle assisted rebuild San Francisco after the 1906 earthquake; and his grandfather campaigned for political office.
However, notwithstanding this classic U.S. background, I find myself no longer feeling connected with the country. This feeling intensifies given the perplexing and concerning political atmosphere that makes me doubt the meaning of national belonging. This phenomenon has been labeled "citizen insecurity" – and I recognize the symptoms. Currently I wish to establish separation.
Practical Considerations and Financial Burden
I merely lived in the United States a brief period and haven't returned for eight years. I've maintained Australian nationality for most of my life and no intention to live, work or study within America subsequently. Furthermore, I'm certain I won't require military rescue – thus no functional requirement to maintain U.S. citizenship.
Furthermore, the obligation as an American national to submit annual tax returns, despite neither living nor working there nor qualifying for benefits, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. America stands with only two nations worldwide – the other being Eritrea – that impose taxation based on citizenship rather than residence. And financial compliance is mandatory – it's printed within travel documents.
Admittedly, a fiscal treaty operates connecting both nations, intended to avoid double taxation, but preparation expenses range from substantial amounts yearly 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 impose significant penalties against non-compliant citizens. This enforcement doesn't target 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 annual expense and stress of filing returns proves distressing and basic financial principles suggest it represents poor investment. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities would mean that visiting involves additional apprehension about potential denial at immigration due to irregular status. Alternatively, I could postpone resolution until my estate handles it posthumously. Both options appear unsatisfactory.
Possessing American travel documentation constitutes an opportunity many newcomers desperately seek to acquire. Yet this advantage that creates discomfort personally, so I'm taking action, although requiring significant payment to complete the process.
The threatening formal photograph of Donald Trump, glowering at attendees 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 during the official questioning regarding external pressure, I honestly respond negatively.
A fortnight later I received my certificate of renunciation and my voided travel papers to keep as souvenirs. 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.