© AP Photo/Carol TapanilaThis July 2012 photo provided by Carol Tapanila shows her and her second husband in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. Tapanila, a native of upstate New York who has lived in Canada since 1969, has joined a largely overlooked surge of Americans rejecting what is, to millions, a highly sought prize: U.S. citizenship. In 2013, the U.S. government reported a record 2,999 people renounced citizenship or terminated permanent residency.
Inside the long-awaited package, six pages of government paperwork dryly affirmed Carol Tapanila's anxious request. But when Tapanila slipped the contents from the brown envelope, she saw there was something more.
"We the people...." declared the script inside her U.S. passport - now with four holes punched through it from cover to cover. Her departure from life as an American was stamped final on the same page: "Bearer Expatriated Self."
With the envelope's arrival, Tapanila, a native of upstate New York who has lived in Canada since 1969, joined a largely overlooked surge of Americans rejecting what is, to millions, a highly sought prize: U.S. citizenship. Last year, the U.S. government reported a record 2,999 people renounced citizenship or terminated permanent residency; most are widely assumed to be driven by a desire to avoid paying taxes on hidden wealth.
The reality, though, is more complicated. The government's pursuit of tax evaders among Americans living abroad is indeed driving the jump in abandoned citizenship, experts say. But renouncers - whose ranks have swelled more than five-fold from a decade ago - often contradict the stereotype of the financial scoundrel. Many are from very ordinary economic circumstances.
Some call themselves "accidental Americans," who recall little of life in the U.S., but long ago happened to be born in it. Others say they renounced because of politics, family or personal identity. Some say signing away citizenship was a huge relief. Others recall being sickened by the decision.
At the U.S. consulate in Geneva, "I talked to a man who explained to me that I could never, ever get my nationality back," says Donna-Lane Nelson, whose Boston accent lingers though she's lived in Switzerland 24 years. "It felt like a divorce. It felt like a death. I took the second oath and I left the consulate and I threw up."
Comment: Religious fundamentalism could soon be treated as mental illness