24 Nigerian-born Female Students Released After Eight Days Post Abduction
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- By Matthew Mcguire
- 11 Mar 2026
After 60 years 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. This departure is voluntary, despite the sorrow it brings, because there remains much to admire about you.
From your breathtaking national parks, towering redwood forests and distinctive animal species to the magical illumination of lightning bugs 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. Many of my most cherished memories center on tastes that permanently connect me to you – cinnamon spice, seasonal squash dessert, fruit preserves. However, United States, you've become increasingly difficult to understand.
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" 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 plus multiple eras of settlers who traversed the country, from Massachusetts and New Jersey toward central and western regions.
I feel tremendous pride 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 during the first world war; his single-parent ancestor operated agricultural land with numerous offspring; his relative helped rebuild San Francisco after the 1906 earthquake; 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 concerning political atmosphere that makes me doubt what American identity represents. This phenomenon has been labeled "national belonging anxiety" – and I recognize the symptoms. Currently I wish to establish separation.
I merely lived in the United States for two years and haven't returned for eight years. I've held Australian citizenship for almost forty years and no intention to reside, employment or education in the US again. Furthermore, I'm certain I'll never need emergency extraction – thus no functional requirement to maintain U.S. citizenship.
Furthermore, the obligation as an American national to file yearly financial documentation, despite neither living or employed there nor qualifying for benefits, becomes onerous and stressful. The United States ranks among only two nations worldwide – the other being Eritrea – that implement levies based on citizenship rather than residence. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's printed in our passport backs.
Certainly, a tax agreement exists connecting both nations, intended to avoid double taxation, yet filing costs vary between A$1,200 and A$3,500 annually for straightforward declarations, and the process proves extremely demanding and convoluted to undertake every new year, when the U.S. tax period commences.
Authorities have indicated that ultimately the U.S. government will enforce compliance and impose significant penalties against non-compliant citizens. These measures affect not only high-profile individuals but all Americans overseas need to meet requirements.
While taxation isn't the primary reason for my renunciation, the recurring cost and anxiety of filing returns proves distressing and fundamental economics indicates it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. However, ignoring American fiscal duties would mean that visiting including extra worry regarding possible border rejection due to irregular status. Or, I might defer settlement for inheritance processing after death. Neither alternative seems acceptable.
Possessing American travel documentation constitutes an opportunity many newcomers desperately seek to acquire. Yet this advantage that creates discomfort personally, so I'm taking action, despite the $2,350 cost to complete the process.
The threatening formal photograph featuring the former president, glowering at attendees at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I performed the citizenship relinquishment – provided the final motivation. I recognize I'm selecting the correct path for my circumstances and during the official questioning regarding external pressure, 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 on a federal registry. I merely wish that future visa applications gets granted when I decide to visit again.
A seasoned software engineer with a passion for open-source projects and tech education.