As a teenager Roy ran with O.J. Simpson in the Medallion gang. Today, the white, middle-aged heroin addict who proudly defends his racism is celebrating O.J.'s victory. His solidarity throws a curve ball into America's traditional understanding of black-white apartheid. PNS associate editor Philippe Bourgois, author of "In Search of Respect: Selling Crack in El Barrio" (Cambridge University Press) teaches anthropology at San Francisco State University.

SAN FRANCISCO -- A homeless, middle-aged self-described racist heroin addict is celebrating the O.J. verdict under a freeway near the Potrero Hill housing projects where O.J. grew up. To most Americans marveling at the dramatically polarized black and white reactions to the verdict, Roy may seem an unlikely celebrant. But as a social misfit with his own history of harassment by police, Roy reminds us that there is much more to the racial story in America than the "black-white thang."

On the street, among the heroin addicts, crack dealers and petty thieves I have been studying as an anthropologist, there was never any doubt over O.J.'s guilt. In fact, throughout the trial anyone who even bothered asking the question, "Do you think...?", was dismissed as naive. For all its cruel exigencies, street culture in America is brutally honest when it comes to judging crime. There is no such thing as innocent until proven guilty, and there is certainly no idealistic respect for the rule of law or any faith in the just administration of a criminal court.

But if "having been there" makes it impossible for street people to harbor illusions about the judicial system, they are only too eager to see the underdog triumph, regardless of color. And to root for someone who fights for his rights, especially if he uses violence effectively.

Then, too, Roy's enthusiasm for O.J. draws on shared adolescent experience. The two ran together in the Medallion gang, an integrated group which controlled the Potrero Hill housing project turf in the early 1960s. According to Roy, O.J. was the treasurer of the youth gang and was an effective fighter, "real quick on his feet, but not too good at taking punches." O.J. commanded respect, not merely because he was a great athlete, but because he was quick to anger and ready to back it up with blows, even when the insult or affront was trivial. Unpredictable but expressive violence is what gives gang members credibility in street fighting scenes.

Roy's respect for O.J, also stems from his belief in O.J.'s guilt. By logic of street culture, O.J. was obliged to kill -- or severely brutalize -- "his woman". Indeed, Roy would have lost respect for him had he done anything less dramatic and violent. After all, he would argue, when a woman throws you out of her household (even after you have beaten her up dozens of times, proving how much you love her) and then has the gall to spend your alimony payments on a younger boyfriend, you have to prove you are still a man.

Ironically, Roy also applauds O.J.'s upholding of traditional redneck racial norms, and this throws another curve ball in the traditional American understanding of black-white apartheid. Roy honestly believes Nicole Brown Simpson deserved her fate. He would consider it a travesty for any man (black, white or brown) to have to throw his life away for what he calls a "white-trash-bitch". When asked to define the term, he looks surprised: "Well, what do you think Nicole was? A white bitch who married a nigger. Ain't nothing good that can come out of that. I'm tellin' you it wasn't O.J.'s fault."

Roy and his solidarity with O.J. encapsulate the racism, sexism and worship of money and power that is so deeply ingrained in America's popular common sense. Unlike his white, middle-class counterparts, Roy lacks the sophistication to hide his racism from outside inquisitors. Nevertheless, unlike most of the American middle class, he is not lying when he says, "Hell, some of my best friends are black."

Indeed, Roy's heroin addiction and ultimate social marginality force him to live a genuinely multi-cultural lifestyle, even if he is proud of his profound hatred of what he calls "niggers." He shares the plastic tarp that he sleeps under with a Mescalero Apache dope fiend. His primary heroin supplier is a Latino. And at least a couple of times a month, he shares a needle with one or more African Americans. There is even an Asian Pacific Islander among the regular customers at the open air "shooting gallery" he manages.

Like O.J., Roy is estranged from his wife and is not allowed to see his children. He too was reported to 911 for brutalizing his wife.