After 60 years together, America, 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, though it brings sadness, because there remains much to admire about you.
From your breathtaking national parks, soaring ancient trees and distinctive animal species to the magical illumination of lightning bugs between crop rows during warm nights and the brilliant fall colors, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your capacity to ignite innovation seems boundless, as demonstrated by the motivational people I've encountered within your borders. Numerous precious recollections revolve around flavors that will forever remind me of you – cinnamon spice, pumpkin pie, fruit preserves. However, United States, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.
If I were composing a separation letter to America, those would be the opening words. I've been what's termed an "accidental American" from delivery because of my paternal lineage and centuries of ancestors before him, starting in 1636 including revolutionary and civil war soldiers, shared genetic material with a former president plus multiple eras of settlers who journeyed across the nation, beginning in northeastern states toward central and western regions.
I feel tremendous pride 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 during the first world war; his widowed great-grandmother managed agricultural land with numerous offspring; his great-uncle assisted reconstruct the city after the 1906 earthquake; while another ancestor ran for political office.
Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I discover myself increasingly disconnected with the country. This is particularly true given the perplexing and alarming governmental climate that makes me doubt what American identity represents. Experts have termed this "national belonging anxiety" – and I believe I experience it. Currently I wish to establish separation.
I've only resided 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 reside, employment or education within America subsequently. And I'm confident I won't require military rescue – thus no functional requirement to maintain American nationality.
Additionally, the requirement I face as a U.S. citizen to file yearly financial documentation, although not residing or employed there or eligible for services, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. America stands with merely two countries globally – the other being Eritrea – that implement levies based on citizenship rather than residence. And financial compliance is mandatory – it's documented within travel documents.
Admittedly, a fiscal treaty operates between Australia and the U.S., designed to prevent duplicate payments, but preparation expenses range between A$1,200 and A$3,500 annually even for basic returns, and the process proves extremely demanding and convoluted to undertake every new year, as the American fiscal cycle begins.
I've been informed that eventually the U.S. government will enforce compliance and impose significant penalties against non-compliant citizens. This enforcement doesn't target high-profile individuals but every U.S. citizen abroad need to meet requirements.
Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my renunciation, the annual expense and stress of filing returns proves distressing and basic financial principles suggest it represents poor investment. However, ignoring American fiscal duties would mean that visiting involves additional apprehension regarding possible border rejection for non-compliance. Alternatively, I could postpone resolution for inheritance processing after death. Both options appear unsatisfactory.
Possessing American travel documentation constitutes a privilege that countless immigrants desperately seek to acquire. Yet this advantage that feels uncomfortable for me, so I'm taking action, although requiring significant payment to finalize the procedure.
The threatening formal photograph featuring the former president, scowling toward visitors at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I performed the citizenship relinquishment – supplied the ultimate impetus. I recognize I'm choosing the proper direction for my situation and during the official questioning about potential coercion, I honestly respond negatively.
A fortnight later I received my certificate of renunciation and my voided travel papers to keep as souvenirs. My name will reportedly appear within government records. I merely wish that subsequent travel authorization gets granted when I decide to visit again.
A seasoned gaming enthusiast with over a decade of experience in lottery analysis and casino reviews.
