Introduction: Beyond The Belt
Chicago is built on a foundation of meat and railroads and steel, on opportunity and exploitation. But while its identity long ago expanded beyond manufacturing ...
Chicago is built on a foundation of meat and railroads and steel, on opportunity and exploitation. But while its identity long ago expanded beyond manufacturing ...
I live in Shaker Heights, on a tree-lined street between the high school and the library, and I work in Asiatown, between the Thai restaurants and the board-ups.
In a small conference room at Detroit Medical Center’s Sinai Grace Hospital, violence intervention specialist Ray Winans asks a roomful of young African Americans if they know anyone who has been killed by gunshots.
We’re unveiling the cover for Belt Publishing’s forthcoming Rust Belt Chicago: An Anthology, and we couldn’t be more excited. The cover was designed by legendary Chicago artist Tony Fitzpatrick, known for his style of vibrant collages.
Even though this is about a bird – miraculous blue jewel, transfiguration in a city backyard – it begins with a crash in the middle of the night.
On days with significantly bizarre but altogether pleasant weather, Midwestern politeness stifles me from responding to small talk observations of “unseasonably warm weather” with thoughts on climate change.
It’s easy to mistake the Great Lakes for the ocean, at first. I’ve brought a few people to see Lake Michigan for the first time, and that’s what they all say: “It looks like the ocean!”
Last summer I was at the Soggy Bottom Bar in downtown Flint, Michigan for the launch of Happy Anyway: A Flint Anthology, which I had edited, and author Aaron Foley and I were doing the very cool thing of signing each other’s books.
Ashley E. Nickels and Dani Vilella have joined forces to compile articles, poetry, and personal narratives about and by Grand [...]
While the USA wrestles with the politics and policies of immigration and refugees, Belt presents nine moving essays about refugees living throughout the Rust Belt…
Nestled within some of Pittsburgh’s many wooded hillsides, or “greenways,” are dark corners that harbor vestiges of long demolished houses, city blocks, and even whole neighborhoods.
My old neighborhood, Lee-Harvard, now referred to as Lee-Miles, is quieter and, like the rest of Cleveland, less populated than it was in the 70s. I remember the hustle and bustle of the city then, but people look at me like I’m crazy when I refer to Cleveland’s former status as a major U.S. city.