Hiren Deliwala
By Hiren Deliwala
Harrison Ford might not be the first name that comes to mind when you think of emotional vulnerability. After all, this is the man who gave us Indiana Jones, Han Solo, and countless other gruff, no-nonsense characters. But in the Apple TV+ series Shrinking, his character, a cranky, aging therapist, has a habit of casually dropping the phrase “My bad,” along with a thump on his chest. It’s usually tossed out in a low-key moment, often after a small mistake or a missed cue. He says it with just the right mix of sarcasm, and a hint of actual accountability.
When my friends and I saw that, we latched onto it immediately.
We started using “my bad” in our own group texts, jokes, and even with our spouses. It became our catchphrase, our go-to response for everything from forgetting an errand to showing up late. And of course, we had to include the chest thump. “Didn’t take the trash out again? Thump – my bad.” Forgot to pick up groceries? Thump – my bad.”
Before long, we were doing it so often we started joking about having chest pain. “Yaar, I am hurting from all these ‘my bads’ – I need a break from being wrong.” It was a laugh, but sort of true too. What started out as a running joke turned into something more. It gave us a funny, familiar shorthand to acknowledge mistakes without getting too deep into the emotional muck.
But over time, I started to ask myself: Is “my bad” enough? Is it just an easy out, or can it mean something real? What was it helping us say or avoid?
There’s something disarming about “my bad.” It’s a casual, culturally acceptable way to own a mistake without getting overly vulnerable. It doesn’t ask for forgiveness. It doesn’t open the door to an emotional conversation. It simply says: “Yes, that was me. Theek hai na yaar (let’s move on).” In my professional life, it works well. In emails and meetings, “my bad” is an efficient way to acknowledge a missed update or a minor oversight. It’s almost expected.
But in personal relationships, I’ve found it doesn’t always cut it.
Speaking only from my own experience and from watching the men around me, saying a heartfelt “I’m sorry” doesn’t come naturally. There’s a kind of inherited cultural connotation, especially among men, that apologizing is a sign of weakness or defeat. I grew up in a home where I rarely saw my father apologize (sorry Dad! And I am proud of how you have grown over time). The unspoken rule was just keep going and time will take care of it.
As I got older, especially during that in-between phase of engagement and marriage, I started learning otherwise. My soon-to-be wife made sure of that. She called me out and still does, made me reflect, and expected more than a shrug and a “my bad.” And I’m still learning. Marriage, I’ve found, is a good arena to practice many diverse skills including how to own your mess.
Then came the kids. And with kids came new levels of frustration, impatience, and being in control. I wanted the best for them, but too often, that came out as control. And when they didn’t do things “my way,” I could get angry. There were emotional and sometimes violent outbursts I regretted almost instantly. And in those quiet moments afterward, when guilt would creep in, I’d face the hard reality – I owe them an apology. But apologizing to your kids isn’t always easy. It feels awkward. Humbling and albeit necessary.
Across cultures and religions, the act of seeking forgiveness and offering it is central. Whether it’s faith, tradition, or just the desire to keep relationships healthy, we’re all taught that apologizing is not just polite, it’s necessary.
I started to understand that real apologies go beyond just owning the mistake. They acknowledge the impact. They say, “I see how I hurt you, and I want to do better.” And maybe hardest of all – they challenge you to change. That takes effort and emotional energy. So yes, sometimes a quick “sorry” is enough and can move the conversation along but rarely brings true closure. But there are moments in marriage or any close relationship when “my bad” feels too small for the size of the mistake. Especially in close relationships – whether it’s with a partner, parent, kids, sibling, or friend—people can tell when you mean it. And when you don’t. When something you said or didn’t say causes real hurt, a casual phrase just isn’t enough. In those moments, real repair takes vulnerability—and vulnerability isn’t easy. A half-hearted “my bad” just adds to the hurt. But a real, honest “I’m sorry. I understand how that made you feel. I’ll do better.”
So what does “my bad” mean to me now?
It’s still a helpful phrase; a lighter way to flag the small stuff, a cultural shorthand that makes everyday apologies a little easier but doesn’t work all the time. Life gives us no shortage of opportunities to mess up. And just as many opportunities to grow from it. Sometimes a joke with your buddies is all you need. Other times, you need to sit down, look someone in the eye, and say what really matters.
Thanks, Harrison Ford, for the laugh. And the phrase.
But when it comes to the people I care about most, I’m learning to go deeper. To say more than “my bad.” To really show I’m sorry and mean it. And we live, we learn, and hopefully, we grow.
Hiren Deliwala is a Charlotte-based overthinker, closet philosopher, and avid board gamer. He writes about everyday life, Indian upbringing, and finding humor in the chaos. When not philosophizing over chai, he’s usually losing arguments to his wife and, shockingly, learning from them. Contact: hcdeliwala@gmail.com
