One Day I saw a Black King

We were taught from the moment we were pushed out of our mother's womb that we are  not meant to be alone.  Us. Black Women. We were taught  to seek a black king, bear his children, set the foundation for his home and love him unconditionallly until death do us part. We were taught to hold down the fort when the going gets tough, comfort him during the bad times, embrace him during the good. We were taught to cherish him, obey him, and always have his back by any means necessary no matter if he is right or wrong.
  But what do we do when our kings are gay, in jail, dead, on the street corners slingings crack, heroin, pills, and marijuana. What do we do when our black kings look at us with disgust because we are not light enough, hair isn't straight enough, or our bodies are not similar to the thin waisted, big butt mixed looking chick on the video they saw on 106th & park at 6pm the previous night.
 What do we do when our black kings look at us and all he see  is a bitch, whore, slut, chicken, hood rat, freak. What do we do when our black kings only see us as a cum deposit, a baby making machine, a freak of the week, a hoe for that area code, or a whore he can use while he is in that part of town.
  Sometimes I wonder if there is a last breed left of true black kings for us queens with just an ounce of pride, dignity, self respect, love, and a warm beating heart. A last breed that is not shallow, and would love a sister with natural kinky hair, cocoa dark skin, thick curves all around, and wouldn't mind "waiting".
 They say 42% of black women are single, and they try to pin the blame on us. Michael Baisden tried it, Steve Harvey tried it. But every black men need to stand in front of the mirror for at least five minutes and ask himself, is he really doing his very best in Respect? Love for his lady? Love for his mother? Love for his fellow brother? Kings it's time you start respecting each other, love on one another, as if he is your brother. We need a change. Like yesterday.