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After six decades together, America, our partnership must conclude. 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.

Scenic Wonders and Innovative Energy

Beginning with your magnificent protected lands, towering redwood forests and unique wildlife to the magical illumination of lightning bugs between crop rows during warm nights and the brilliant fall colors, your natural splendor is extraordinary. Your ability to spark creativity seems boundless, as demonstrated by the inspiring individuals I've encountered within your borders. Numerous precious recollections center on tastes that will forever remind me of you – cinnamon spice, seasonal squash dessert, fruit preserves. However, United States, you've become increasingly difficult to understand.

Family Legacy and Shifting Identity

If I were composing a separation letter to the United States, that's how it would begin. I've qualified as 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 military participants in foundational conflicts, shared genetic material with a former president plus multiple eras of settlers 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 contributions to America's narrative. My dad grew up during the Great Depression; his ancestor fought with the military overseas 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; and his grandfather campaigned for political office.

Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I discover myself increasingly disconnected with the country. This feeling intensifies considering the confusing 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. Now I desire to create distance.

Practical Considerations and Financial Burden

I merely lived in the United States for two years and haven't returned for eight years. I've held Australian citizenship for almost forty years and have no plans to reside, employment or education in the US again. And I'm confident I won't require military rescue – so there's no practical necessity to maintain U.S. citizenship.

Furthermore, the obligation as an American national to file yearly financial documentation, although not residing or employed there or eligible for services, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. America stands with only two nations worldwide – including Eritrea – that impose taxation based on citizenship rather than residence. And financial compliance is mandatory – it's documented in our passport backs.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists connecting both nations, designed to prevent duplicate payments, but preparation expenses range from substantial amounts yearly for straightforward declarations, and the procedure represents highly challenging and complex to complete each January, when the U.S. tax period commences.

Compliance Concerns and Final Decision

I've been informed that eventually the U.S. government will enforce compliance and impose significant penalties against non-compliant citizens. 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 annual expense and stress of filing returns proves distressing and fundamental economics indicates it represents poor investment. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities would mean that visiting including extra worry about potential denial at immigration due to irregular status. Or, I might defer settlement for inheritance processing after death. Neither alternative seems acceptable.

Possessing American travel documentation constitutes a privilege that countless immigrants desperately seek to acquire. But it's a privilege that feels uncomfortable for me, thus I'm implementing changes, despite the $2,350 cost to complete the process.

The intimidating official portrait of Donald Trump, glowering at attendees within the diplomatic facility – where I recited the renunciation oath – supplied the ultimate impetus. I understand I'm selecting the correct path for my circumstances and during the official questioning regarding external pressure, I truthfully answer no.

Two weeks afterward I received my certificate of renunciation and my voided travel papers to keep as souvenirs. My identity will supposedly be published within government records. I merely wish that subsequent travel authorization gets granted during potential return trips.