America, There's Still So Much to Adore About You, But We Have to Break Up: Here's Why I'm Giving Up My American Citizenship

After six decades together, United States, 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, despite the sorrow it brings, because you possess countless wonderful qualities.

Scenic Wonders and Innovative Energy

Beginning with your magnificent protected lands, towering redwood forests and unique wildlife 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 seems boundless, as evidenced through the inspiring individuals I've encountered within your borders. Numerous precious recollections revolve around flavors that permanently connect me to you – aromatic cinnamon, pumpkin pie, fruit preserves. However, United States, you've become increasingly difficult to understand.

Ancestral History and Changing Connection

If I were composing a separation letter to America, those would be the opening words. I've been what's termed an "unintentional U.S. citizen" since birth due to my father and ten generations preceding him, commencing in the seventeenth century including military participants in foundational conflicts, shared genetic material with a former president plus multiple eras of settlers who traversed the country, from Massachusetts and New Jersey to Ohio, Pennsylvania, Illinois and Kansas.

I experience deep honor in my family's history and their contributions to America's narrative. My dad grew up during the Great Depression; his grandfather served 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 following the seismic disaster; while another ancestor ran for political office.

Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I discover myself increasingly disconnected with the country. This feeling intensifies considering the confusing and alarming governmental climate that makes me doubt what American identity represents. Experts have termed this "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 in nearly a decade. I've held Australian citizenship for almost forty years and no intention to reside, employment or education within America subsequently. And I'm confident I'll never need emergency extraction – so there's no practical necessity to maintain American nationality.

Furthermore, the obligation I face as a U.S. citizen to file yearly financial documentation, despite neither living or employed there or eligible for services, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. America stands with merely two countries globally – including Eritrea – that impose taxation based on citizenship rather than residence. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's printed in our passport backs.

Admittedly, a fiscal treaty operates connecting both nations, designed to prevent duplicate payments, but preparation expenses range from substantial amounts yearly for straightforward declarations, and the process proves highly challenging and complex to undertake every new year, when the U.S. tax period commences.

Regulatory Issues and Ultimate Choice

I've been informed that ultimately the U.S. government will enforce compliance and administer substantial fines on delinquent individuals. These measures affect not only high-profile individuals but every U.S. citizen abroad need to meet requirements.

While taxation isn't the primary reason for my decision, the recurring cost and anxiety of filing returns proves distressing and fundamental economics indicates it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities 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 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 intimidating official portrait of Donald Trump, scowling toward visitors within the diplomatic facility – where I performed the citizenship relinquishment – provided the final motivation. I understand I'm selecting the correct path for my circumstances and during the official questioning regarding external pressure, I truthfully answer no.

Two weeks afterward I received my certificate of renunciation and my voided travel papers to retain as mementos. My name will reportedly appear on a federal registry. I simply hope that subsequent travel authorization gets granted when I decide to visit again.

Amy George
Amy George

Elara is a passionate astrophysicist and science writer, dedicated to making complex space topics accessible and exciting for all readers.