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After 60 years together, United States, our partnership must conclude. Though fondness remains, the romantic connection has faded 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.

Scenic Wonders and Innovative Energy

Beginning with your magnificent protected lands, 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 capacity to ignite innovation appears limitless, as demonstrated by the motivational people I've met throughout your territory. Numerous precious recollections center on tastes that will forever remind me of you – aromatic cinnamon, seasonal squash dessert, grape jelly. But, America, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.

Ancestral History and Changing Connection

If I were composing a separation letter to the United States, those would be the opening words. I've qualified as an "unintentional U.S. citizen" from delivery due to my father and centuries of ancestors before him, commencing in the seventeenth century and featuring revolutionary and civil war soldiers, DNA connections to past leadership plus multiple eras of settlers who traversed the country, from Massachusetts and New Jersey to Ohio, Pennsylvania, Illinois and Kansas.

I feel tremendous pride regarding my ancestral background and their role in the national story. My dad grew up during the Great Depression; his ancestor fought as a Marine in France in the global conflict; his widowed great-grandmother managed a farm with nine children; his great-uncle assisted rebuild San Francisco following the seismic disaster; while another ancestor ran as a state senator.

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 leaves me questioning what American identity represents. This phenomenon has been labeled "national belonging anxiety" – and I believe I experience it. Currently I wish to establish separation.

Practical Considerations and Financial Burden

I merely lived 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 have no plans to reside, employment or education in the US again. And I'm confident I won't require military rescue – thus no functional requirement to maintain U.S. citizenship.

Furthermore, the obligation I face as a U.S. citizen to submit annual tax returns, despite neither living nor working there or eligible for services, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. America stands with only two nations worldwide – including Eritrea – that implement levies based on citizenship rather than residence. And financial compliance is mandatory – it's documented in our passport backs.

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 for straightforward declarations, and the process proves extremely demanding and convoluted to undertake every new year, when the U.S. tax period commences.

Compliance Concerns and Final Decision

I've been informed that ultimately American officials will mandate conformity and impose significant penalties against non-compliant citizens. These measures affect not only high-profile individuals but every U.S. citizen abroad need to meet requirements.

While taxation isn't the primary reason for my renunciation, the annual expense and stress of filing returns proves distressing and fundamental economics indicates it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. However, ignoring American fiscal duties would mean that visiting including extra worry 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 earnestly attempt to obtain. But it's a privilege 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 – supplied the ultimate impetus. I recognize I'm selecting the correct path for my situation and during the official questioning about potential coercion, I honestly respond negatively.

Two weeks afterward I received my certificate of renunciation and my voided travel papers to retain as mementos. My identity will supposedly be published on a federal registry. I simply hope that subsequent travel authorization gets granted during potential return trips.