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After six decades together, America, I'm ending our relationship. While I still hold affection for you, 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.

Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit

From your breathtaking national parks, soaring ancient trees and unique wildlife to the enchanting glow of fireflies between crop rows during warm nights and the vibrant autumn foliage, your natural splendor is extraordinary. Your capacity to ignite innovation appears limitless, as demonstrated by the motivational people I've met throughout your territory. Many of my most cherished memories revolve around flavors that will forever remind me of you – cinnamon spice, 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, that's how it would begin. I've been what's termed an "accidental American" since birth due to my father and centuries of ancestors before him, starting in 1636 including military participants in foundational conflicts, DNA connections to past leadership and generations of pioneers 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 through economic hardship; his grandfather served with the military overseas during the first world war; his single-parent ancestor operated agricultural land with numerous offspring; his relative helped 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 is particularly true given the perplexing and alarming governmental climate that makes me doubt the meaning of national belonging. Experts have termed this "national belonging anxiety" – and I recognize the symptoms. Now I desire to create distance.

Logistical Factors and Economic Strain

I merely lived in the United States a brief period and haven't returned 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 to maintain U.S. citizenship.

Furthermore, the obligation as an American national to submit annual tax returns, despite neither living nor working there or eligible for services, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. The United States ranks among merely two countries globally – including Eritrea – that impose taxation based on citizenship rather than residence. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's printed in our passport backs.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists between Australia and the U.S., intended to avoid double taxation, yet filing costs vary between A$1,200 and A$3,500 annually 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 ultimately American officials will mandate conformity and impose significant penalties against non-compliant citizens. These measures affect not only high-profile individuals but all Americans overseas need to meet requirements.

While taxation isn't the primary reason for my renunciation, the recurring cost and anxiety associated with documentation becomes troubling and basic financial principles suggest it represents poor investment. However, ignoring American fiscal duties would mean that visiting including extra worry about potential denial at immigration for non-compliance. Alternatively, I could postpone resolution for inheritance processing after death. Both options appear unsatisfactory.

Possessing American travel documentation constitutes an opportunity many newcomers earnestly attempt to obtain. But it's a privilege that feels uncomfortable for me, so I'm taking action, although requiring significant payment to complete the process.

The threatening formal photograph featuring the former president, scowling toward visitors within the diplomatic facility – where I recited the renunciation oath – supplied the ultimate impetus. I understand I'm selecting the correct path for my situation and during the official questioning regarding external pressure, I truthfully answer no.

A fortnight later I received my certificate of renunciation and my canceled passport 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.