After 60 years together, United States, 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 you possess countless wonderful qualities.
From your breathtaking national parks, towering redwood forests and unique wildlife to the enchanting glow of fireflies between crop rows during warm nights and the brilliant fall colors, your natural splendor is extraordinary. Your ability to spark creativity appears limitless, as evidenced through the inspiring individuals 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. But, America, you've become increasingly difficult to understand.
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 because of my paternal lineage and ten generations preceding him, commencing in the seventeenth century and featuring 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 in my family's history and their contributions to America's narrative. My father experienced childhood during the Great Depression; his ancestor fought with the military overseas in the global conflict; his single-parent ancestor operated a farm with nine children; his great-uncle assisted rebuild San Francisco after the 1906 earthquake; and his grandfather campaigned for political office.
However, notwithstanding this classic U.S. background, I find myself no longer feeling connected with the country. This is particularly true considering the confusing and concerning political atmosphere 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 merely lived within America for two years and haven't returned in nearly a decade. I've maintained Australian nationality for most of my life 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 or employed there nor qualifying for benefits, becomes onerous and stressful. America stands with only two nations worldwide – the other being Eritrea – that impose taxation according to nationality instead of location. 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 from substantial amounts yearly for straightforward declarations, and the process proves extremely demanding and convoluted to undertake every new year, when the U.S. tax period commences.
I've been informed that eventually the U.S. government will enforce compliance and administer substantial fines against non-compliant citizens. These measures affect not only extremely wealthy figures like Boris Johnson but every U.S. citizen abroad must fulfill obligations.
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 constitutes inefficient resource allocation. However, ignoring American fiscal duties could result in travel involves additional apprehension regarding possible border rejection due to irregular status. 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. Yet this advantage that creates discomfort personally, so I'm taking action, despite the $2,350 cost to complete the process.
The intimidating official portrait of Donald Trump, glowering at attendees within the diplomatic facility – where I recited the renunciation oath – provided the final motivation. I recognize I'm choosing the proper direction for my circumstances and during the official questioning regarding external pressure, I honestly respond negatively.
Two weeks afterward I received my certificate of renunciation and my canceled passport to keep as souvenirs. My name will reportedly appear on a federal registry. I merely wish that subsequent travel authorization gets granted when I decide to visit again.
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