After 60 years together, America, I'm ending our relationship. Though fondness remains, the romantic connection has faded and the time has come to go our separate ways. I'm leaving by choice, though it brings sadness, because you possess countless wonderful qualities.
From your breathtaking national parks, towering redwood forests and distinctive animal species to the enchanting glow of fireflies amid cornfields on summer evenings and the brilliant fall colors, your natural splendor is extraordinary. Your capacity to ignite innovation appears limitless, as demonstrated by the inspiring individuals I've met throughout your territory. Many of my most cherished memories center on tastes that permanently connect me to you – cinnamon spice, pumpkin pie, grape jelly. But, America, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.
If I were composing a separation letter to America, that's how it would begin. I've been what's termed an "accidental American" from delivery because of my paternal lineage and centuries of ancestors before him, starting in 1636 and featuring military participants in foundational conflicts, DNA connections to past leadership and generations of pioneers who journeyed across the nation, beginning in northeastern states to Ohio, Pennsylvania, Illinois and Kansas.
I experience deep honor in my family's history and their role in the national story. My dad grew up through economic hardship; his grandfather served as a Marine in France during the first world war; his widowed great-grandmother managed a farm with nine children; his relative helped reconstruct the city following the seismic disaster; while another ancestor ran as a state senator.
Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I find myself no longer feeling connected with the country. This feeling intensifies considering the confusing and alarming governmental climate that leaves me questioning the meaning of national belonging. This phenomenon has been labeled "citizen insecurity" – and I recognize the symptoms. Currently I wish to establish separation.
I merely lived within America a brief period and haven't returned for eight years. I've held Australian citizenship for most of my life and have no plans to reside, employment or education in the US again. Furthermore, I'm certain I won't require military rescue – so there's no practical necessity to maintain U.S. citizenship.
Additionally, the requirement as an American national to submit annual tax returns, although not residing nor working there nor qualifying for benefits, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. America stands with 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.
Certainly, a tax agreement exists between Australia and the U.S., intended to avoid double taxation, yet filing costs vary from substantial amounts yearly even for basic returns, and the process proves highly challenging and complex to complete each January, when the U.S. tax period commences.
Authorities have indicated that eventually American officials will mandate conformity and administer substantial fines on delinquent individuals. These measures affect not only extremely wealthy figures like Boris Johnson but every U.S. citizen abroad need to meet requirements.
While taxation isn't the primary reason for my decision, the annual expense and stress 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 about potential denial at immigration due to irregular status. Or, I might defer settlement for inheritance processing after death. Both options appear unsatisfactory.
Holding a U.S. passport represents a privilege that countless immigrants earnestly attempt to obtain. Yet this advantage that feels uncomfortable for me, so I'm taking action, despite the $2,350 cost to complete the process.
The threatening formal photograph featuring the former president, 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 circumstances and during the official questioning about potential coercion, I honestly respond negatively.
A fortnight later I obtained my official relinquishment document and my canceled passport to keep as souvenirs. My identity will supposedly be published within government records. I merely wish that future visa applications gets granted when I decide to visit again.
Lena is a passionate gamer and tech writer, specializing in indie games and hardware reviews, with years of industry experience.