Born Ricardo D' Amico Chamberlan in Columbus, Ohio, I was the baby of a black man whose only crime was marrying a white woman. My mom, a Bay area native, grew up in Castro Valley while my dad was born and raised in South Central, Los Angeles. Somehow faith brought them together, ultimately producing a baby, me.
             I was the victim of my own uncontrollable birth. In my life it is all the little things that count. We moved to East Oakland when I was only two. Even as a young baby I seen what was happening around me. As a young child my dad was always drunk. My mom didn't have a job and she didn't do much of anything. Growing up I seen my cousin "gang bangin." My cousin always tried to avoid me, he said I was an annoying little whit boy. When I turned twelve I wanted to be a "G," I wanted to start "doin my thing," make a name for myself in the town. It turned out the town already had a name picked out for me. I wasn't hard enough; I wasn't black enough; I wasn't even good enough. There was a leader on my block who I looked up to named Monster. He was around even when my dad wasn't. One day when I asked if I could clique up with him and the boys, he said to me, "You're just a little cracka boy with a black daddy." It devastated me. I wasn't black; I was white.
             We moved out of the "Town" to Hayward, where finally I could try being myself again. I enrolled at Ochoa as an eighth grader. Alternative music was in. If I wasn't a thug, maybe I could be a Rocker. I packed up all my "Gangsta fits" and picked me up a nice pair of skate shoes, a skateboard and a couple of hip CD's. I was always good at changing to fit the scene. I tried to hang out with all the Rockers; I got a rocker girl friend. I was never really accepted as one of them as they always looked at me funny and laughed at me
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