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After 60 years together, America, I'm ending our relationship. Though fondness remains, 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

Beginning with your magnificent protected lands, towering redwood forests and unique wildlife to the magical illumination of lightning bugs amid cornfields on summer evenings and the vibrant autumn foliage, your natural splendor is extraordinary. Your capacity to ignite innovation appears limitless, as evidenced through the inspiring individuals I've met throughout your territory. Numerous precious recollections revolve around flavors that will forever remind me of you – aromatic cinnamon, 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 been what's termed an "unintentional U.S. citizen" since birth due to my father and centuries of ancestors before him, commencing in the seventeenth century and featuring revolutionary and civil war soldiers, shared genetic material with a former president plus multiple eras of settlers who traversed the country, from Massachusetts and New Jersey toward central and western regions.

I experience deep honor regarding my ancestral background and their role in the national story. My father experienced childhood through economic hardship; his ancestor fought as a Marine in France in the global conflict; his single-parent ancestor operated agricultural land with numerous offspring; his great-uncle assisted rebuild San Francisco after the 1906 earthquake; while another ancestor ran for political office.

Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I find myself no longer feeling connected to the nation. This feeling intensifies given the perplexing and concerning political atmosphere that makes me doubt the meaning of national belonging. Experts have termed this "national belonging anxiety" – 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 visited in nearly a decade. 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'll never need emergency extraction – so there's no practical necessity for me to retain American nationality.

Furthermore, the obligation as an American national to file yearly financial documentation, despite neither living or employed there nor qualifying for benefits, becomes onerous and stressful. America stands with merely two countries globally – including Eritrea – that impose taxation according to nationality instead of location. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's documented in our passport backs.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists between Australia and the U.S., intended to avoid double taxation, but preparation expenses range from substantial amounts yearly even for basic returns, and the process proves highly challenging and complex to undertake every new year, when the U.S. tax period commences.

Regulatory Issues and Ultimate Choice

Authorities have indicated that eventually the U.S. government will enforce compliance and administer substantial fines on delinquent individuals. This enforcement doesn't target high-profile individuals but all Americans overseas need to meet requirements.

While taxation isn't the primary reason for my decision, the recurring cost and anxiety associated with documentation becomes troubling and basic financial principles suggest it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities could result in travel including extra worry regarding possible border rejection due to irregular status. Alternatively, I could postpone resolution until my estate handles it posthumously. Neither alternative seems acceptable.

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

The threatening formal photograph featuring the former president, glowering at attendees at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I performed the citizenship relinquishment – provided the final motivation. I recognize I'm choosing the proper direction for my situation and during the official questioning about potential coercion, I truthfully answer no.

Two weeks afterward I received my certificate of renunciation and my canceled passport to keep as souvenirs. My identity will supposedly be published on a federal registry. I merely wish that subsequent travel authorization gets granted when I decide to visit again.