November 30, 2025

American Small Talk About Weather Confuses Immigrant Who Thought They’d Discuss Actual Topics

West African discovers Americans use weather as conversation filler for emotional avoidance

The Conversational Void Filled With Cloud Updates

MINNEAPOLIS, MN – Kwabena Mensah survived his first Minnesota winter and learned that Americans would rather discuss precipitation patterns than actual human experiences. The 29-year-old accountant from Ghana spent three months hearing variations of “Cold enough for you?” and “Can you believe this weather?” before realizing American small talk is less about communication and more about confirming you’re both still capable of observing basic meteorological facts without discussing anything meaningful. “You people talk about weather the way my grandmother discusses theology,” Mensah observed. “Constantly, passionately, and with the assumption that everyone cares deeply about your observations on something nobody controls.”

In Accra, when Mensah’s neighbors talked, they discussed families, politics, community events, actual topics that mattered. In Minneapolis, conversations begin with weather observations, continue with more weather observations, and end with agreements about previously stated weather observations. “It’s cold today.” “Yes, very cold.” “Supposed to get colder.” “Oh yes, much colder.” This exchange happened verbatim four times in one elevator ride. Nobody said anything else. They observed cold, confirmed cold, predicted colder, and parted as strangers who briefly shared temperature anxiety.

When Avoiding Depth Becomes a Cultural Skill

According to research on American communication patterns, weather talk serves as “phatic communion”—language used for social bonding rather than information exchange. Mensah discovered this means Americans would rather discuss things that don’t matter than risk discussing things that do. “You use weather as a shield,” he told his coworker who’d opened their fifth conversation that week with “Hot one today.” “Shield from what?” his coworker asked. “From actual conversation,” Mensah explained. “From saying something real. From being vulnerable or interesting or human. Weather is safe because it’s meaningless. Nobody disagrees about weather. Nobody gets emotional about weather observations. It’s the conversational equivalent of saying nothing while appearing to communicate.”

Jim Gaffigan said, “I don’t know what’s worse: talking about the weather or people who say ‘How about this weather?'” Mensah knows what’s worse: realizing Americans will discuss weather for 10 minutes but won’t discuss their actual lives for 10 seconds. His coworker’s entire personality at work is weather observations and coffee preferences. Mensah knows nothing real about this person despite working together for eight months. “You’re performing social interaction without actually interacting,” Mensah observed. “You’re checking the box—’I talked to colleague today’—without saying anything that matters. This is social theater, not friendship.”

The Elevator Ride Where Weather Is the Only Topic

Mensah tested American weather obsession by refusing to engage. Coworker: “Crazy weather we’re having.” Mensah: “Yes, weather exists.” Silence. His coworker looked uncomfortable, tried again: “Supposed to rain later.” Mensah: “Water will fall from sky, yes.” More silence. The coworker gave up and stared at the elevator buttons like they contained secrets. “You can’t handle silence,” Mensah realized. “So you fill it with weather observations. But silence is fine. Silence is honest. We don’t know each other. We’re just in an elevator together. Why pretend we need to discuss atmospheric conditions?”

Dave Chappelle said, “Sometimes the funniest thing to say is nothing at all.” Americans think the most uncomfortable thing to say is nothing at all. So they say weather things—meaningless observations that confirm you’re both aware meteorology exists—and call it conversation. Mensah’s radical approach: only speaking when he has something to say. His coworkers think he’s quiet. He thinks they’re obsessed with filling silence with noise.

The peak absurdity came during a company meeting that started with 5 minutes of weather discussion. “It’s really coming down out there.” “Yes, quite a storm.” “Supposed to clear up tomorrow though.” “Oh good, I was worried.” Worried about what? Sky water? Mensah wanted to scream. Instead, he sat quietly while grown adults discussed rain like it was a geopolitical crisis requiring immediate analysis and consensus.

When Real Topics Become Inappropriate Small Talk

Mensah tried injecting actual topics into small talk. At a company mixer, someone said “Hot one today” and Mensah responded, “Yes. Have you read about the new climate data?” The person looked panicked and walked away. Another time, someone mentioned rain and Mensah said, “Makes me think about water scarcity issues.” They changed topics back to safe weather—how wet it was, not what wetness means in a global context. “You only want surface observations,” Mensah concluded. “Not implications, not connections, not thoughts. Just acknowledgment that weather exists. This is the most American thing—having access to depth and choosing puddles.”

Chris Rock said, “You know the world is going crazy when the best rapper is a white guy.” Mensah knows America is weird when people will discuss weather for 20 minutes but consider discussing inequality “too political for work.” Weather is safe because it requires no thought, no perspective, no risk. You can’t be wrong about observing it’s cold. You can’t offend anyone by noting it’s raining. It’s conversation without content, interaction without intimacy, talking without saying anything.

The Morning Greeting That’s Actually Weather Report

Every morning, Mensah’s coworkers greet each other with weather observations disguised as greetings. “Morning! Beautiful day!” “Morning! Though I heard it might rain.” “Morning! Sure is chilly!” Nobody says “How are you?” and means it. Nobody asks about your life. Just weather updates delivered as if Mensah doesn’t have windows or internet access. “You’re telling me things I can observe myself,” he noted. “Yes, it’s cold. I walked through the cold to get here. I know it’s cold. Why are you confirming cold? What does this accomplish?”

Bill Burr said, “I’m not going to apologize for being right.” Mensah’s not apologizing for finding American weather obsession bizarre. “In Ghana, if someone spent every conversation discussing weather, we’d assume they had nothing interesting happening in their life. Here, it’s normal. Expected. You bond over shared weather experiences like you survived something together. You didn’t. You both experienced the same temperature while living in the same city. That’s not bonding—that’s existing in the same climate zone.”

The cruelest irony: Americans discuss weather constantly but won’t discuss climate change. They’ll spend 10 minutes analyzing whether it’s colder this winter than last winter, but suggesting systemic climate issues makes them uncomfortable. “You love talking about weather but hate discussing why weather patterns are changing,” Mensah observed. “You want weather as small talk, not weather as important topic. Because important topics require thinking, and thinking requires maybe changing behavior, and changing behavior is hard. So you’ll just comment that it’s hot today and move on without considering why today is hotter than it should be.”

When Weather Talk Replaces Emotional Honesty

Mensah realized weather talk is emotional avoidance dressed as pleasantries. Americans ask “How are you?” but don’t want real answers. So they default to weather. “Beautiful day” means “I’m acknowledging your existence without requiring your actual feelings.” Mensah tested this by responding honestly to weather talk. Coworker: “Terrible weather today.” Mensah: “Yes, reminds me of monsoon season back home when our roof leaked and we had to bucket water all night.” The coworker looked horrified and walked away. Too real. Weather talk is supposed to be shallow.

Amy Schumer said, “I’m not saying I’m lazy, I’m saying I’m energy efficient.” Americans aren’t communication efficient—they’re vulnerability-avoidant. Weather talk is efficient at one thing: avoiding anything meaningful. It’s the perfect conversation for people who want to seem friendly without actually being friends. “You’re allergic to depth,” Mensah told his coworker. “Weather is your EpiPen. Whenever conversation threatens to become real, you stab it with weather observations until the depth dies and you’re safe in small talk again.”

The Party Where Everyone Discusses Temperature Instead of Interesting Things

Mensah attended a work party where weather was the dominant conversation topic. “Can you believe this heat?” “I know, brutal.” “Supposed to cool down next week.” “Oh thank goodness.” This loop repeated for 45 minutes. Nobody discussed books, ideas, experiences, dreams, anything remotely interesting. Just weather. Collective weather anxiety. Group meteorological observations. “You’re all boring each other,” Mensah finally said. “And you know it. Because nobody actually cares about these conversations. You’re performing social acceptable small talk because you’re terrified of being interesting or vulnerable or real. So you hide behind weather observations and pretend you’re connecting.”

Kevin Hart said, “Everybody wants to be famous, but nobody wants to do the work.” Everybody wants friendships, but nobody wants to do the work of moving past weather talk. Americans will discuss temperature for 10 minutes with coworkers they’ve known for years but won’t ask about their families, struggles, joys, lives. “You’re protecting yourself from intimacy,” Mensah observed. “By keeping every conversation surface-level. Weather is the perfect surface—visible, universal, meaningless. You can talk forever without saying anything. And you do.”

When Mensah suggested his coworkers could discuss literally anything else, they looked confused. “What else would we talk about?” they asked. “Your lives?” Mensah suggested. “Your actual experiences? Ideas? Thoughts? Anything that reveals you’re a complex human with internal existence beyond weather observation capabilities?” They looked uncomfortable. One person said, “That seems personal.” Yes. That’s the point. Conversations should be personal. That’s what makes them conversations instead of meteorological data exchange.

When Surface Communication Creates Surface Relationships

Mensah has worked at his company for 18 months. His coworkers can tell you his weather opinions but not his family situation, his dreams, his challenges, his actual personality. “You know I think winter is cold,” he told them. “But you don’t know anything real about me. Because we’ve never discussed anything real. Just weather. Temperature. Precipitation. Cloud formations. You’re experts on my climate preferences and ignorant about my actual life. This is American friendship—knowing someone’s surface while never accessing their depth.”

Trevor Noah said, “In Africa, we talk to people like we’re genuinely interested in their lives.” Americans talk to people like they’re checking a box—”social interaction completed”—without actual interest. Weather talk is perfect for this. It requires no curiosity, no follow-up, no genuine engagement. You observe weather, they confirm observation, you both move on having connected over absolutely nothing. “You’re lonely,” Mensah told his coworkers. “And you’re lonely because you use weather talk to avoid the conversations that would make you less lonely. You keep everyone at weather-distance—close enough to be polite, far enough to never be vulnerable. Then you go home and wonder why you have no real friends.”

When asked if he’ll adopt American weather talk habits, Mensah laughed while having an actual conversation with a stranger about where he’s from, why he moved, what he misses about home—topics that matter. “Never,” he said. “I’ll continue being a human having human conversations. If that makes Americans uncomfortable, that’s their problem. They’ve decided talking about weather is safer than talking about life. I’ve decided life is too short to spend it discussing temperature with people I could actually know if we both tried. Back home, small talk includes families, news, community, real things. Here, small talk is weather talk—the conversational equivalent of saying nothing loudly. You people have confused politeness with meaninglessness. You think surface conversation is friendly when it’s actually distant. You’re maintaining distance while calling it connection. And your weather obsession is the symptom of a culture that’s terrified of intimacy, vulnerability, and saying anything real that might require an authentic human response.”

He paused, then added: “Also, your weather isn’t even that interesting. It’s cold in winter. Hot in summer. Sometimes it rains. This is not revolutionary. Yet you discuss it like every weather event is unprecedented. ‘Can you believe this rain?’ Yes. I can believe rain. It’s been happening since Earth developed an atmosphere. What I can’t believe is that you’d rather discuss rain than discuss anything about your actual internal experience of being human. But that would require honesty, vulnerability, and risk. Weather requires none of those things. So you talk about weather, stay safe, stay surface, stay lonely, and wonder why American friendships feel shallow. They’re shallow because you keep them there. On purpose. With weather talk.”

SOURCE: Bohiney Magazine (Aisha Muharrar)

DATE: 11/18/2025

Aisha Muharrar

Aisha Muharrar, Comedian and Satirical Journalism

View all posts by Aisha Muharrar →

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