After six decades together, United States, I'm ending our relationship. Though fondness remains, the romantic connection has faded and the time has come to go our separate ways. This departure is voluntary, despite the sorrow it brings, because there remains much to admire about you.
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 vibrant autumn foliage, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your capacity to ignite innovation appears limitless, as evidenced through the motivational people I've encountered within your borders. Many of my most cherished memories revolve around flavors that permanently connect me to you – cinnamon spice, pumpkin pie, fruit preserves. But, America, you've become increasingly difficult to understand.
If I were composing a separation letter to the United States, that's how it would begin. 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 military participants in foundational conflicts, 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 in my family's history and their role in the national story. My dad grew up during the Great Depression; his grandfather served with the military overseas in the global conflict; his single-parent ancestor operated a farm with nine children; his great-uncle assisted reconstruct the city after the 1906 earthquake; while another ancestor ran as a state senator.
Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I discover myself increasingly disconnected to the nation. This feeling intensifies given the perplexing and alarming governmental climate that leaves me questioning the meaning of national belonging. Experts have termed this "national belonging anxiety" – and I believe I experience it. Currently I wish to establish separation.
I merely lived within America for two years and haven't returned for eight years. I've held Australian citizenship for most of my life and have no plans to live, work or study within America subsequently. Furthermore, I'm certain I'll never need emergency extraction – so there's no practical necessity to maintain American nationality.
Additionally, the requirement as an American national to submit annual tax returns, although not residing or employed there or eligible for services, becomes onerous and stressful. The United States ranks among merely two countries globally – the other being Eritrea – that impose taxation based on citizenship rather than residence. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's documented in our passport backs.
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 procedure represents extremely demanding and convoluted to undertake every new year, when the U.S. tax period commences.
I've been informed that eventually American officials will mandate conformity and administer substantial fines against non-compliant citizens. This enforcement doesn't target high-profile individuals but every U.S. citizen abroad must fulfill obligations.
Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my decision, the annual expense and stress of filing returns proves distressing and fundamental economics indicates it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities could result in travel involves additional apprehension regarding possible border rejection for non-compliance. Alternatively, I could postpone resolution until my estate handles it posthumously. Neither alternative seems acceptable.
Possessing American travel documentation constitutes a privilege that countless immigrants earnestly attempt to obtain. But it's a privilege that creates discomfort personally, so I'm taking action, although requiring significant payment to complete the process.
The intimidating official portrait of Donald Trump, scowling toward visitors within the diplomatic facility – where I performed the citizenship relinquishment – provided the final motivation. I understand I'm choosing the proper direction 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 voided travel papers to keep as souvenirs. My identity will supposedly be published on a federal registry. I simply hope that subsequent travel authorization gets granted during potential return trips.
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