USA, I Still Find Plenty to Love About You, But It's Time to Part Ways: Here's Why I'm Renouncing My US Citizenship
After six decades together, United States, I'm ending our relationship. 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 you possess countless wonderful qualities.
Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit
Beginning with your magnificent protected lands, soaring ancient trees and unique wildlife to the magical illumination of lightning bugs between crop rows during warm nights and the brilliant fall colors, your natural splendor is extraordinary. Your ability to spark creativity seems boundless, as evidenced through the inspiring individuals I've encountered within your borders. Numerous precious recollections center on tastes that permanently connect me to you – aromatic cinnamon, pumpkin pie, grape jelly. But, America, you've become increasingly difficult to understand.
Ancestral History and Changing Connection
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 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, beginning in northeastern states to Ohio, Pennsylvania, Illinois and Kansas.
I feel tremendous pride in my family's history and their role in the national story. My father experienced childhood during the Great Depression; 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 rebuild San Francisco following the seismic disaster; while another ancestor ran as a state senator.
However, notwithstanding this classic U.S. background, I find myself no longer feeling connected to the nation. This feeling intensifies given the perplexing and alarming governmental climate that leaves me questioning what American identity represents. This phenomenon has been labeled "citizen insecurity" – and I believe I experience it. Now I desire to create distance.
Practical Considerations and Financial Burden
I merely lived within America for two years and haven't returned for eight years. I've maintained Australian nationality for almost forty years and have no plans to live, work or study within America subsequently. Furthermore, I'm certain I'll never need emergency extraction – thus no functional requirement to maintain U.S. citizenship.
Additionally, the requirement I face as a U.S. citizen to submit annual tax returns, although not residing nor working there nor qualifying for benefits, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. 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 within travel documents.
Certainly, a tax agreement exists between Australia and the U.S., designed to prevent duplicate payments, but preparation expenses range from substantial amounts yearly even for basic returns, and the process proves highly challenging and complex to undertake every new year, as the American fiscal cycle begins.
Compliance Concerns and Final Decision
I've been informed that ultimately American officials will mandate conformity and impose significant penalties on delinquent individuals. This enforcement doesn't target high-profile individuals but every U.S. citizen abroad need to meet requirements.
Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my renunciation, the annual expense and stress associated with documentation becomes troubling and fundamental economics indicates it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. However, ignoring American fiscal duties could result in travel including extra worry about potential denial at immigration 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 desperately seek to acquire. Yet this advantage that feels uncomfortable for me, so I'm taking action, although requiring significant payment to finalize the procedure.
The intimidating official portrait featuring the former president, glowering at attendees at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I recited the renunciation oath – provided the final motivation. I understand I'm selecting the correct path for my situation and during the official questioning about potential coercion, I truthfully answer no.
A fortnight later I received my certificate of renunciation and my canceled passport to retain as mementos. My name will reportedly appear within government records. I merely wish that subsequent travel authorization will be approved during potential return trips.