When I first moved to Chicago, I would ride my bike to the lake and have peace. In a city where all the news talks about is the violence, Chicago is a place where artists find peace of mind. Musicians, comedians, actors, photographers, papermakers, painters, collage artists, or dancers. Whether it’s something you go to a space to see or you’re just stepping outside, it’s present. The city thrives on it. The shoulders are wide enough that we can all fit.
We’ll have tavern-style pizza from Pequod’s, Due, or the local shop at the corner. The microbrew of choice is really a choice, and if you visited one a week for a year, you’d still need more time. In Chicago, you can visit Zach, Chris, or Keon for cocktails at the Whistler, or Maria at the Whirlaway, or Brian at Skylark. In Chicago, you can follow your favorite DJ around for inspiration, sit in the back and vibe and write poems and vibe and write more poems. Claudio stops by and drops off tamales. Make friends on the walk home or find a soulmate in the rideshare.
I have been living here for damn near twenty years, and this city never fails to surprise me. I had my second awakening here, my voice developed here, my first poems were published because of the connections I made and people I had access to. It’s an environment where art is everywhere, in such abundance, and nobody is ashamed to say yes, I am a poet, I am a comedian, or I moved here for the theater scene.
Things are hard and it’s not like Chicago is the easiest place to live, but if it were easy, we would all do it. As Rod Serling said, “I don’t think there is anything in the world more difficult than writing, and if it weren’t hard everyone would be a writer and the world would be weighed down with books. But it’s not easy. It comes to a selective few.” This city breeds many, and Chicago stays present, and if you stay present with it, something comes back to you.
Almost every day of the week there is a show or performance or reading to attend. And if not, I can guarantee there is someone who wants to start one, who has a space or an apartment they are willing to open so people can do art together.
Getting around Chicago is not hard. You can drive, but if you don’t have a car, train or bus will get you there. Coming from Cleveland, where taking public transportation is more of a chore than convenience, navigating Chicago feels manageable. And when doing so, you’ll notice each neighborhood has its own distinct personality and culture. And how wise and well-rounded you would be to live a year in each ward.
Keep this in mind: Downtown is glamorous, but kind of shuts down at night. Going out into the city is where life happens. And whatever place you step into will be a new memory. And when the same people pop up again and again, you know you’ve found your crew. Your squad. And maybe even a home.
The last time AWP was in Chicago was 2012. It will be fifteen years since a city full of literature and writing has held the annual conference. And this will be AWP’s 60th anniversary. The city that was a home to Gwendolyn Brooks, Lisel Mueller, and Carl Sandburg, current home to Rebecca Makkai and Stuart Dybek, and birthplace of poets Nate Marshall, José Olivarez, Jamila Woods, and avery r. young. AWP is returning to a city Rebecca Makkai says “is having a literary renaissance.” And in 2027 we can all be a part of history.
Kenyatta Rogers is a Cave Canem fellow and has been awarded scholarships from the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference. His work has been previously published in or forthcoming from the Academy of American Poets, Poetry, Jubilat, Bat City Review, The Volta, PANK, and MAKE Magazine, among others. Rogers is a lead teacher for the Poetry Foundation’s Teacher Institute. He serves on the board of directors for AWP and the Chicago Literary Hall of Fame. A Pushcart and Best of the Net nominee, he is a cohost of the Sunday Reading Series with Simone Muench and lives in Chicago. His debut poetry collection is forthcoming in 2027 from Trio House Press.