My dad has always had a set of indiscernible standards for me, but it’s hard to follow invisible rules. He’s a social liberal but wants to arrange my marriage. He’s a feminist for all women other than his own daughter. I manage to make him squeamish by wearing anything less impenetrable than the x-ray vest you get at the dentist. So when I told him that I would be bringing my long-term boyfriend home, who is white, who is significantly older, and who is not his choice, old Papa Koul spent a lot of time pantomiming heart attacks and strokes to get me to change my mind.