Preachers and presidents are typically the ones to get streets named after them, not rappers. That’s why it was no small deal when the Long Island city of Long Beach—population circa thirty-four thousand—voted overwhelmingly to christen East Hudson Street, between Long Beach and Riverside Boulevards, “KMD - MF DOOM Way,” in homage to some of her most famous sons. Daniel Dumile Jr., aka MF DOOM, and his younger brother, Dingilizwe, aka Subroc, who spent their formative years growing up at 114 East Hudson, joined the ranks of rap’s fallen soldiers—in the fine company of Jam Master Jay, Scott La Rock, MCA of the Beastie Boys, Phife Dawg, The Notorious B.I.G., and Big Pun—to be officially enshrined in the public consciousness for their contributions to the art form and culture. On a sunny Saturday in July 2021, neighbors, fans, friends, and family (including the surviving Dumile siblings, Dimbaza and Thenjiwe, up from Georgia), gathered at an unveiling ceremony to celebrate their lives and reminisce about the brothers, who were closer than two peas in a pod.

Spearheading the drive to gather a petition of over ten thousand signatures, longtime resident Dr. Patrick Graham kicked off the festivities, proclaiming of DOOM, “His hip-hop lyricism represents some of the best linguistic metaphors, garnering intergenerational and interracial admiration.”1 Though his undeniable raw talent had made him widely popular, he still managed to evade mainstream success. But as DOOM embodied such concepts as freedom and redemption, Graham observed, “His life and art symbolize the resilience we need in our present context.”2

For DOOM, writing rhymes and making music did not revolve around money, fame, fashion, or hype, but the act of creativity itself, to which he dedicated his whole being. He knew full well that art, though a product of individual self-expression, embodied transcendent powers—to heal, transform, transmit ideas, and even bring people together. It was a means of seeing and engaging with the world. An artist in the truest sense of the word, DOOM owed his entire existence to the creative act.

Ashlyn Thompson first met Daniel Joshua Dumile Sr. at a weekly art show in Long Beach in 1970. A native of Marabella, Trinidad, the lithe eighteen-year-old had emigrated to the US the previous year to join her family. Her mother, Henrietta, had been the first to arrive stateside in the mid-sixties, working as a domestic. Now well on her way to making her American dream a reality, Mrs. Thompson had started a nursing agency to provide home care for the aging Jewish population in the area, squirreling away enough funds to purchase the four-bedroom house at 114 East Hudson Street with her husband, Joseph. After establishing employment and permanent residency, the Thompsons, like many typical immigrants, started bringing over their eleven children. Education being a priority, Ashlyn, an honor student, arrived in time to complete her senior year at Long Beach High before enrolling in courses at nearby Molloy College. She was still finding her footing in her new surroundings when a chance encounter introduced her to her future husband, who was selling his paintings in the town center at Kennedy Plaza.

Dumile (pronounced “Doo-me-lay”), also an immigrant, hailed from Zimbabwe in southern Africa. Besides being an accomplished artist, a hobby he pursued in his spare time, he was proficient enough in math and science to win a full scholarship to attend university in the US in the mid-sixties, a rare achievement for a foreign student. Initially, he ended up studying in upstate New York, but a taste of his first harsh winter was enough to make him transfer. Consulting a state map, he spotted the name “Long Beach,” which enticed him with visions of the sunnier climes he had left behind. Without so much as a visit, he decided to relocate there, enrolling in nearby Hofstra University in Hempstead. At least the “City by the Sea,” as his new home was nicknamed, offered a magnificent view of the Atlantic from its sprawling wooden boardwalk.

Upon graduating, he briefly taught math and science at Long Beach High before helping to establish the Harriet Eisman Community School, an alternative night school catering to troubled students left behind by the public school system. Having lived under apartheid, Dumile was a natural-born activist who espoused solidarity with the civil rights struggle in America. His main goal became helping to empower Black people. Smart, multitalented, and committed to his ideals, he made enough of an impression on Ashlyn that, in spite of her strict upbringing, she was soon sneaking out of the house to meet him. Not long into their surreptitious and whirlwind courtship, she found herself expecting her first child, and they married.

That summer, Ashlyn made a trip to London, England, to visit her older sister Marlene, who was attending nursing college there. Also a recent newlywed, Marlene had just welcomed a baby girl named Michelle into the family. While staying with her sister in the borough of Hounslow, Ashlyn unexpectedly went into labor, giving birth to a healthy baby boy, Daniel Jr., on July 13, 1971. As soon as mother and child were able, they returned to the US a couple of months later, the baby traveling on a British passport since he was officially a British citizen. By this time, Daniel Sr. was renting a small house in Freeport, Long Island, where they lived. Over the next few years, the Dumile family grew to include Dingilizwe, born in August 1973; Dimbaza, born in October 1975; and finally a girl, Thenjiwe, born in May 1977. Not content to remain a housewife while raising her brood, Ashlyn found time to enroll in the nursing program at the Nassau County Vocational Education and Extension Board. By the time her daughter was born, she had graduated, becoming a licensed practical nurse.

Meanwhile, Daniel Sr. continued with his teaching and activism. In addition to his role in establishing the Eisman school, he helped found the Martin Luther King Community Center for neighborhood youth. He also played an instrumental role in getting the first Black officer hired by the Long Beach Police Department. Considering the deep influence of Louis Farrakhan and the Nation of Islam on certain segments of the Black community in the seventies, it came as no surprise when Daniel Sr. and his wife joined the organization and started regularly attending a mosque in neighboring Roosevelt. Never very religious, he found inspiration in the Nation’s emphatic message of Black empowerment.

Though raised as a Christian, Ashlyn dutifully adopted the hijab and started reading the Quran. Always intellectually curious and an avid reader, she passed on her appreciation for language and the written word to her children. Despite her training as a nurse, she displayed a progressive bent, embracing naturopathic medicine and practicing yoga, meditation, and vegetarianism long before they were in vogue. While her husband channeled his creativity into painting and woodcarving—taking over their basement as his studio, where he stored stacks of finished canvases and art supplies—Ashlyn enjoyed designing and sewing clothes for herself and her family.

Early life for the Dumile children, who grew up in a stable, two-parent, middle-class household, could only be described as normal. Despite the Nation’s preoccupation with discipline, they were allowed to be themselves, gravitating toward their own interests like skateboarding and riding BMX bikes. Their father did, however, exercise strict control over the media consumed under his roof, favoring the educational programming of NPR and PBS. But the kids were still permitted to indulge in the weekly ritual of Saturday morning cartoons and other children’s programs.

Daniel Jr. did not demonstrate a particular aptitude for school, though his teacher praised his ability to draw. In one of his very first report cards, dating back to first grade, she described him as “a quiet boy who gets along well with his peers.”3 She further assessed, “Dumile can decode words and understand what he reads. He has good ability but very poor work habits, … poor listening skills, and does not follow directions.”4 Apparently, “DOOM,” his mother’s pet name for him (and one that stuck, which we will use herein in his preferred form of all caps), was already moving to the beat of a different drummer. Despite receiving mostly Cs, he did manage to get an A for...