United States, I Still Find So Much to Love About You, But We Have to Break Up: Here's Why I'm Giving Up My US Citizenship
After 60 years together, America, our partnership must conclude. Though fondness remains, the passion has diminished and I'm making the difficult decision to separate. I'm leaving by choice, despite the sorrow it brings, because you possess countless wonderful qualities.
Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit
Beginning with your magnificent protected lands, soaring ancient trees and unique wildlife to the enchanting glow of fireflies between crop rows during warm nights and the vibrant autumn foliage, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your ability to spark creativity seems boundless, as evidenced through the motivational people I've encountered within your borders. Numerous precious recollections revolve around flavors that will forever remind me of you – aromatic cinnamon, seasonal squash dessert, fruit preserves. But, America, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.
Family Legacy and Shifting Identity
Were I drafting a farewell message 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, starting in 1636 including revolutionary and civil war soldiers, shared genetic material with a former president and generations of pioneers who traversed the country, from Massachusetts and New Jersey 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 with the military overseas during the first world war; his widowed great-grandmother managed a farm with nine children; his relative helped reconstruct the city after the 1906 earthquake; while another ancestor ran for political office.
Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, 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 the meaning of national belonging. Experts have termed this "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 a brief period and haven't returned in nearly a decade. I've held Australian citizenship for most of my life and have no plans to reside, employment or education within America subsequently. And I'm confident I won't require military rescue – thus no functional requirement to maintain American nationality.
Furthermore, the obligation as an American national to file yearly financial documentation, although not residing or employed there or eligible for services, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. America stands with merely two countries globally – including Eritrea – that implement levies based on citizenship rather than residence. And financial compliance is mandatory – it's printed in our passport backs.
Admittedly, a fiscal treaty operates connecting both nations, intended to avoid double taxation, but preparation expenses range from substantial amounts yearly 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 American officials will mandate conformity and administer substantial fines on delinquent individuals. This enforcement doesn't target high-profile individuals but every U.S. citizen abroad must fulfill obligations.
While taxation isn't the primary reason for my decision, the annual expense and stress of filing returns proves distressing and fundamental economics indicates it represents poor investment. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities would mean that visiting involves additional apprehension about potential denial at immigration 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 feels uncomfortable for me, thus I'm implementing changes, despite the $2,350 cost to complete the process.
The threatening formal photograph featuring the former president, glowering at attendees within the diplomatic facility – where I performed the citizenship relinquishment – supplied the ultimate impetus. I recognize I'm selecting the correct path for my situation and when the consular officer inquires about potential coercion, I honestly respond negatively.
A fortnight later I received my certificate of renunciation and my canceled passport to retain as mementos. My identity will supposedly be published within government records. I merely wish that subsequent travel authorization gets granted when I decide to visit again.