Paper Girl: A Memoir of Home and Family in a Fractured America

Alongside Macy herself, Silas James functions as Paper Girl’s central protagonist. A 2023 graduate of Urbana High School, Silas embodies the human impact of decades of privatization, partisan politics, and rural decline. In a true meritocracy, Macy suggests, Silas’s career in high school would predict future success; Silas is a drum major and graduates with two scholarships to study welding. Nevertheless, his path to middle-class stability is constantly threatened by factors beyond his control, from lack of housing, to a mother struggling with addiction, to problems securing reliable transportation. Silas’s identity as a trans man compounds this precarity, as he experiences not only the socioeconomic blight that affects much of his hometown but also the bias of many of its residents.

Paper Girl thus frames Silas’s story as emblematic of Urbana in one respect but uniquely his own in others. This framing echoes the work’s blending of sociological critique and personal narrative while also speaking to the memoir’s purpose. Macy is writing largely for those on the other side of the political and class divide that Paper Girl describes, and figures like Silas challenge preconceptions, in part by showing how identities often conceived of as mutually exclusive (e.g., rural, working-class masculinity and LGBTQ+ identity) can coexist. Macy’s characterization of Silas also reveals that this project of humanization is not the same as idealization. In the closing pages, she remarks that “The nonvoters, alas, included Silas” and juxtaposes his abstention from the 2024 election with the incoming administration’s curtailment of trans rights (308). The implication is that Silas has acted against his own best interests, once again echoing criticisms of rural America writ large.

At the same time, Macy implicitly invites comparison between Silas’s choice not to vote and his decision not to pursue welding, despite the job’s better pay. In discussing the latter, Macy notes that in crisis conditions, short-term survival necessarily outweighs long-term interests. This is true not only for Silas, the novel suggests, but for many of the people around him. Once again, Macy’s plea for readers’ understanding thus extends beyond Silas to encompass all of those grappling with similar systemic failures.

Cookie is one of Macy’s older sisters, and her story serves as counterpoint to Macy’s own. Where Macy left Urbana, became a journalist, and developed a liberal worldview, Cookie became pregnant as a teenager, worked at Grimes Manufacturing, and eventually joined an evangelical church that helped shape her right-wing politics. Her conversations with Macy when the latter returns to Urbana are frequently tense, particularly on the subject of Cookie’s daughter, Liza, who alleged that she was sexually abused by her stepfather, Cookie’s third husband. Influenced by her pastor and his patriarchal approach to Christianity, Cookie continues to deny the allegations. Macy’s son, Max, is another point of contention; Cookie disapproves of the fact that he is gay, sparking Macy’s protective maternal instincts. In this, Cookie contrasts with another of their siblings, Tim, who gradually comes to accept Max’s orientation and even attends his wedding. More than any other figure, Cookie thus embodies Macy’s argument about the corrosive impact hyper-partisan politics and community decline have had on personal relationships, as she is frequently at odds with her own relatives.

Without downplaying the harm that Cookie’s beliefs have caused to those around her, Macy presents her sister as a complex figure who has herself experienced significant trauma. She notes that Cookie joined her Pentecostal church in the wake of off-shoring and layoffs at Grimes; multiple divorces contributed further to her economic precarity. Moreover, Cookie reveals to Macy that her current marriage is unhappy, as her husband is controlling and prevents Cookie from attending church—a rare bright spot in her life. While her relationship with Macy remains fragile throughout the work, her ultimate purchase of a condo lightens the otherwise bleak atmosphere of the memoir’s final pages. As Macy notes, the purchase marks the first major decision Cookie has made for herself in decades, suggesting that she is beginning to rediscover her own needs and desires after years of deferring to the men around her. Her story suggests that, at least on an individual level, it is possible to move beyond Trauma and the Politics of Despair.

Justin T. Weller is the executive director of the Urbana Youth Center and a civic entrepreneur who embodies the theme of grassroots problem-solving in Paper Girl. A former candidate for mayor, Weller works at the forefront of community engagement, trying to build support systems for Urbana’s most vulnerable young people. He represents a new generation of local leadership pushing back against institutional inertia and political headwinds. Macy presents his story as a central case study in the challenges and importance of “showing up” for one’s community.

At the Urbana Youth Center, Weller has created practical programs that directly address the systemic gaps left by struggling schools and families. He offers tutoring, GED preparation, and life-skills training designed to provide students with support that extends beyond the school day. These initiatives are tangible responses to the immediate needs of at-risk youth, demonstrating a hands-on approach to rebuilding social infrastructure from the ground up.

Macy chronicles Weller’s persistent clashes with local officials over funding, building permits, and the spread of misinformation about the youth center’s mission. These conflicts reveal the small-town power struggles and political friction that often impede progress on essential community services. By following Weller’s projects and legal battles, Macy grounds her arguments about civic capacity in a real-world example, illustrating how personal dedication confronts institutional resistance.

Chris Flowers is an educator and the Champaign County Business and School Liaison; she functions as a critical lifeline for students in Paper Girl. A veteran special educator, she works to connect the K-12 system with local employers, creating pathways to opportunity for students after graduation. For Macy, Flowers models the coaching and mentorship that is essential for helping vulnerable youth navigate the transition to adulthood. She is a key figure who translates institutional resources into personalized, effective support.

Flowers’s primary contribution is developing applied solutions to the barriers preventing student mobility. She organizes career fairs, internships, and credentialing programs that are directly tied to the needs of local employers. This work ensures that education is not merely academic but a practical bridge to stable employment, financial independence, and success.

Beyond her professional role, Flowers serves a vital emotional function as a mentor to at-risk students like Silas James. She guides them through personal crises with steady expectations and practical support, humanizing the often-impersonal nature of institutional aid. Her introduction of Macy to various student stories helps advance the book’s ethos of “showing up.” As Flowers tells Macy regarding Silas, “There’s something about him, I don’t know. Even when everything’s in chaos, he somehow manages to do whatever he needs to do” (16). This highlights her deep belief in the potential of the students she serves.

Claiborne Pell, a six-term US Senator from Rhode Island who died in 2009, serves as a pivotal historical figure in Paper Girl. He was the primary architect of the Basic Educational Opportunity Grant, which was later renamed the Pell Grant in his honor. This landmark legislation symbolized a mid-20th-century federal commitment to making higher education accessible to low-income students. For Macy, Pell and his namesake grant illustrate a time when government investment was a powerful engine for upward mobility.

Macy uses the Pell Grant program to ground her personal story and her broader policy arguments. The grant transformed college access for generations of students, including Macy herself, who writes, “When I left for college in 1982, the Pell Grant paid the entirety of my tuition, my room and board, and even my textbooks—an investment in my future that I have paid back through taxes many times over” (12). This personal testimony underscores the program’s profound impact on individual lives and its value as a public investment.

The legacy of the Pell Grant is central to Macy’s critique of modern policy. She explains that the program, though still in existence, has been strained by rising tuition costs and political neglect, causing its purchasing power to plummet. This decline represents the gap between the promise of the past and the diminished opportunities of the present, supporting the book’s call for a renewed federal commitment to education as a public good.

Brooke Perry is the attendance officer for Champaign County, operating on the front lines of the region’s social crises. Her daily work involves home visits, student transport, and coordination with the family court system to address chronic absenteeism. Perry’s caseload exposes the complex interplay of trauma, poverty, and policy loopholes that creates barriers to education. She represents the hands-on, often grueling, effort required to reconnect struggling students with the school system.

Perry’s role is defined by practical, persistent intervention. She mediates conflicts between families and schools, transports students to counseling, and follows through with legal measures when necessary. These actions depict the concrete steps needed to re-engage students who have fallen through the cracks. Her work is contrasted with the significant resistance she faces from some families, who cite ideology or take advantage of lax homeschooling regulations. This conflict illustrates the systemic policy gaps that undermine compulsory education laws and complicate the work of frontline officials like Perry.

David M. Sapp is the band director at Urbana High School and a pivotal mentor to Silas. In an era of shrinking arts programs and tightening budgets, Sapp’s band room has become an essential support hub for students. His influence extends far beyond musical instruction; he is a trusted adult who keeps vulnerable teens connected to their aspirations and to the school community itself.

Macy highlights Sapp’s emotional function as a provider of daily refuge, structure, and counsel. His office is a place where struggling students can find stability and guidance, demonstrating the impact that a dedicated teacher can have on a young person’s life. Through his interactions with Macy, Sapp also connects the author’s personal memories of the high school band with its current, diminished scale, contextualizing the institutional decline that is a key theme of the book.

Mark T. Evans is a community historian and a descendant of conductors on the Underground Railroad who brings a critical perspective on local history to Paper Girl. His work to revive Urbana’s abolitionist memory, including securing an Ohio Historical Marker in 2013, unfolds amid contemporary debates over racial justice and public history. Evans’s story sharpens Macy’s inquiry into community memory, belonging, and the selective nature of civic pride.

Through dedicated research, Evans connects his family lineage to the broader historical narrative of the Underground Railroad, grounding his advocacy in both personal heritage and scholarship. His efforts extend to public programming and commemorations that aim to widen community awareness of this history. However, his work also reveals deep fractures in local remembrance, as he encounters pushback when attempting to tell the full story of the region’s racial past, including a painful history of lynching. This conflict illustrates the community’s resistance to confronting uncomfortable truths, a key element of the social fragmentation Macy explores.

Lori L. Reisinger is the judge of the Champaign County Family Court and provides an essential systems-level perspective in Paper Girl. Presiding over juvenile, domestic, and probate matters since 2009, she adjudicates cases at the intersection of addiction, youth mental health crises, and chronic school absenteeism. Her role in the book is to anchor Macy’s analysis of institutional capacity and its limitations in the face of overwhelming social problems.

Judge Reisinger’s courtroom functions as a barometer for community-wide stressors, as she handles a docket filled with cases of truancy, delinquency, and custody battles rooted in trauma and addiction. A vocal advocate for reform, Reisinger calls for earlier, problem-solving interventions, such as mediation and stronger attendance supports, to prevent cases from escalating to the judicial system. Her perspective offers practical insights into the institutional levers that could be used to address the root causes of family crises in Urbana.

Jo Alice Blondin is the president of Clark State College, a regional institution that Macy presents as a model for creating pathways to upward mobility. In an era of declining Pell Grant purchasing power and increasing demand for skilled workers, Blondin has positioned Clark State as an essential engine for access and opportunity. Her leadership embodies the practical, workforce-aligned educational strategy that the book champions.

Blondin’s relevance to Macy’s argument lies in her expansion of applied programs that directly address the community’s most pressing needs, including addiction care and manufacturing. These programs create tangible opportunities for students like Silas and Maddie Allen, connecting their education to stable employment. By strengthening an institution that provides affordable and relevant training, Blondin leaves a durable legacy of community benefit, underscoring Macy’s thesis that investment in accessible education is key to regional revitalization.