I took my first trip to the Statue of Liberty in May of 2011, a year after I moved to New York City. I’ve never been big on tourist traps — and New York City is full of them — but I felt an obligation to pay a visit to the lady in the harbor at least once.

Later that night I learned that at around the same time I was gazing up at her crown and torch, Seal Team Six was introducing Osama bin Laden to his virgins. As I listened to the news, an odd sensation came over me. “What a damn good day to be able to call yourself a New Yorker,” I thought. After witnessing a surge of cheering crowds at the foot of where the World Trade Center once stood, I went one step further: In that unique and cathartic moment, I realized I was home.

As the silly-season election conversation has turned to geography, I’ve been forced to examine what the phrase “New York values” actually means. The conclusion I have come to? That neither Ted Cruz nor Donald Trump understands what New York City represents.