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After 60 years together, America, our partnership must conclude. Though fondness remains, the passion has diminished and the time has come to go our separate ways. This departure is voluntary, though it brings sadness, because there remains much to admire about you.

Scenic Wonders and Innovative Energy

From your breathtaking national parks, towering redwood forests and distinctive animal species to the magical illumination of lightning bugs amid cornfields on summer evenings and the brilliant fall colors, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your ability to spark creativity appears limitless, as demonstrated by the motivational people I've encountered within your borders. Many of my most cherished memories center on tastes that will forever remind me of you – cinnamon spice, pumpkin pie, grape jelly. 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 qualified as an "unintentional U.S. citizen" since birth due to my father 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 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 dad grew up through economic hardship; his grandfather served as a Marine in France during the first world war; his single-parent ancestor operated agricultural land with numerous offspring; his great-uncle assisted reconstruct the city following the seismic disaster; while another ancestor ran as a state senator.

However, notwithstanding this classic U.S. background, I find myself no longer feeling connected to the nation. This is particularly true given the perplexing and alarming governmental climate that leaves me questioning the meaning of national belonging. 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 in the United States for two years and haven't returned in nearly a decade. I've held Australian citizenship for most of my life 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 for me to retain American nationality.

Furthermore, the obligation I face as a U.S. citizen to submit annual tax returns, although not residing or employed there nor qualifying for benefits, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. The United States ranks among 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.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists between Australia and the U.S., designed to prevent duplicate payments, yet filing costs vary between A$1,200 and A$3,500 annually even for basic returns, and the procedure represents extremely demanding and convoluted to complete each January, as the American fiscal cycle begins.

Compliance Concerns and Final Decision

I've been informed that ultimately the U.S. government will enforce compliance and administer substantial fines against non-compliant citizens. 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 renunciation, the annual expense and stress associated with documentation becomes troubling and basic financial principles suggest it represents poor investment. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities could result in travel involves additional apprehension regarding possible border rejection due to irregular status. Or, I might defer settlement until my estate handles it posthumously. 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, despite the $2,350 cost to complete the process.

The intimidating official portrait 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 choosing the proper direction for my circumstances and during the official questioning about potential coercion, I honestly respond negatively.

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