Who will cry for the children?

There I was, sitting in my office at the bank and ready to help the next customer when she walked in with her children. Two boys, the oldest 2, and the youngest 1 year old, were with her. I knew they existed because for the previous 30 minutes as she waited in the lobby, they terrorized patrons and staff. They hollered, screamed, threw things, and even ran around like wild men. She, a young African American female, was the classic picture of brokenness. When our eyes met, my soul became empathetic to her circumstance, and her present and future struggle. All I could think of was where in the hell is the father of these two young black boys who are to become men. Where is he? My eyes watered as I watched them spin out of control. They glazed over with a sea-like shine as I watched the oldest try but fail to stab his younger brother with the pen off of my desk. I watched as his eyes encapsulated some of the evil he has been exposed too before he forcefully committed his act. I watched the youngest fall from my chair and hit head first at the bridge of his nose on the corner of my desk after standing and not being told to sit in my chair. Then I watched this young mother with no care grab him by one arm and sling he into his chair repeatedly; I could tell she loved them but she had no parenting skills. I know this because during the course of our conversation, this young lady told me that she had just moved out of her mother's house and that her mom was the standard of discipline in her boys' lives. To me, that explained her lack of control. She was Cindy to them; not mom. After having this thought, the oldest call her Cindy (not her real name) to get her attention, and my heart grew heavier; where is/are their fathers?

It is a very difficult task to raise children, not to mention trying to do it alone. In a world already stacked trump tight against them, these boys chances of succeeding are slim. They are going to have to be taught to fight! But who will teach them? In school, if their behavior doesn't change, they'll surely be tracked. That record will follow them throughout their educational experience. Who will cry for the little boys? Who will cry for these children? I was so heart broken at the prospects for their lives that I had to start talking to friends about what we can do to help our children. Now that the conversation has started, it is my hope that we will channel our energy into some mode of action. If not us, who will cry, and who will fight for our children? Must their dreams be deferred at inception?