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After 60 years together, America, our partnership must conclude. Though fondness remains, the passion has diminished and the time has come to go our separate ways. 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 distinctive animal species to the enchanting glow of fireflies amid cornfields on summer evenings and the brilliant fall colors, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your capacity to ignite innovation appears limitless, as demonstrated by the motivational people I've met throughout your territory. Numerous precious recollections center on tastes that will forever remind me of you – aromatic cinnamon, pumpkin pie, grape jelly. But, America, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.

Family Legacy and Shifting Identity

If I were composing a separation letter to America, that's how it would begin. I've been what's termed an "unintentional U.S. citizen" from delivery due to my father and ten generations preceding him, commencing in the seventeenth century including revolutionary and civil war soldiers, DNA connections to past leadership plus multiple eras of settlers who traversed the country, from Massachusetts and New Jersey to Ohio, Pennsylvania, Illinois and Kansas.

I experience deep honor regarding my ancestral background and their role in the national story. My dad grew up during the Great Depression; his ancestor fought with the military overseas in the global conflict; his widowed great-grandmother managed agricultural land with numerous offspring; his relative helped reconstruct the city following the seismic disaster; and his grandfather campaigned for political office.

Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I find myself no longer feeling connected to the nation. This is particularly true considering the confusing and alarming governmental climate that leaves me questioning what American identity represents. Experts have termed this "national belonging anxiety" – and I believe I experience it. Now I desire to create distance.

Practical Considerations and Financial Burden

I merely lived in the United States a brief period and haven't returned for eight years. I've held Australian citizenship for most of my life and no intention to reside, employment or education in the US again. And I'm confident I'll never need emergency extraction – thus no functional requirement to maintain American nationality.

Additionally, the requirement I face as a U.S. citizen to submit annual tax returns, despite neither living or employed there nor qualifying for benefits, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. 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 within travel documents.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists between Australia and the U.S., intended to avoid double taxation, but preparation expenses range between A$1,200 and A$3,500 annually for straightforward declarations, and the procedure represents extremely demanding and convoluted to undertake every new year, when the U.S. tax period commences.

Regulatory Issues and Ultimate Choice

Authorities have indicated that ultimately American officials will mandate conformity and administer substantial fines against non-compliant citizens. These measures affect not only high-profile individuals but all Americans overseas need to meet requirements.

Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my decision, the recurring cost and anxiety associated with documentation becomes troubling and fundamental economics indicates it represents poor investment. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities would mean that visiting including extra worry regarding possible border rejection due to irregular status. Or, I might defer settlement 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 finalize the procedure.

The intimidating official portrait featuring the former president, scowling toward visitors at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I recited the renunciation oath – supplied the ultimate impetus. I recognize I'm choosing the proper direction for my circumstances and during the official questioning regarding external pressure, I truthfully answer no.

A fortnight later I obtained my official relinquishment document and my voided travel papers to retain as mementos. My identity will supposedly be published within government records. I simply hope that future visa applications will be approved when I decide to visit again.