On a winter Friday night in Coney Island, just steps from the boardwalk and far from Brooklyn’s better-known queer enclaves, a crowd gathers around a screen. There are sequins and jeans, families and first-timers, teenagers sitting beside retirees. When “Rupaul’s Drag Race” begins, cheers erupt, not just for the queens on screen, but for the sense of togetherness in the room.
At its center is Maxim Ibadov, also known as “Maxxxim,” a southern Brooklyn native, drag performer, producer, arts educator and Community Board 13 member whose Drag Race viewing party has quietly become one of the most inclusive queer cultural spaces in the borough.
“This is our little party in the depths of Brooklyn,” Ibadov told Brooklyn Paper. “And I’m very grateful — and very excited — that people are interested in it.”
Produced by Ibadov’s company, Tawk Productions, the weekly viewing party recently entered its third season and moved to a new home at The Red Door on Surf Avenue. The shift marks a significant expansion for an event that began three years ago at the Freak Bar inside Coney Island USA and has grown into a vital gathering space for southern Brooklyn’s queer population in an area long underserved by LGBTQIA+ infrastructure.
“There is no LGBTQ community center here. There are no gay bars anywhere below Prospect Park,” Ibadov said. “That’s wild, when you consider how many people actually live in Southern Brooklyn.”
Born at what once was Victory Memorial Hospital and raised partly in Russia before returning to Brooklyn as a teenager, Ibadov described southern Brooklyn as both a place of origin and refuge. They moved back to the neighborhood at 15 for political reasons, after Vladimir Putin returned to power, an experience that helped shape their deep commitment to anti-authoritarian politics and queer visibility.
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“Southern Brooklyn is in my blood,” they said. “It’s where I was born, and it’s where I found safety again.”
By day, Ibadov works as an arts educator at the Park Avenue Armory, teaching students across New York City public schools. That background heavily informed their decision to make the “Drag Race” party all-ages — a rarity in nightlife-centered drag culture.
“Queer adults can hop on a train and go to Hell’s Kitchen or Williamsburg,” Ibadov said. “But those spaces are age-gated. And queer youth need access to culture too — they need to see what’s possible.”
The all-ages model had drawn audiences from far beyond Coney Island. Ibadov recalled middle schoolers attending alongside seniors and young people traveling from Harlem, Westchester and even Albany just to experience “Drag Race” in a communal setting.
“One kid told me he Googled where he could watch ‘Drag Race’ with other people,” they said. “He wanted to know what that felt like.”
What he found was something closer to a neighborhood ritual than a nightlife spectacle. At a recent viewing party, locals rearranged tables into a single communal setup. Among them sat three generations of the same family — a grandmother, her daughter and her transgender grandson — sharing food, laughter and reactions to the show.
“That’s what community looks like,” Ibadov said. “Making memories together.”
The move to The Red Door came after financial limitations at the Freak Bar, which operates as part of a nonprofit still recovering from pandemic-era tourism losses. Ibadov spoke about the show’s importance at a Community Board 13 meeting last December, emphasizing its cultural and economic value during Coney Island’s slow winter months. A former board chair connected them with The Red Door’s new management, who were eager to host drag programming.
“They already had a stage, screens, food, and were open on Fridays,” Ibadov said. “It just made sense.”
The partnership also means another queer-friendly venue has emerged on Surf Avenue — something Ibadov sees as both symbolic and strategic.
“I want to perform in every restaurant and bar on Surf Avenue,” they said, laughing. “That’s my personal mission.”
That mission has not always been easy. Southern Brooklyn includes neighborhoods that have leaned conservative in recent elections, and Ibadov was candid about the political tension. But they insist that the event is designed to welcome neighbors across ideological lines.
“This is for the community,” they said. “For people who voted differently, for people who didn’t vote, for people who just want to be together.”
Humor helps. So does drag’s inherent joy.
“There’s something about drag that changes people on a molecular level,” Ibadov said. “Once they see it’s joy, something shifts.”
Ibadov, who started as a drag producer before performing themselves, has also used the platform to uplift emerging artists. Several performers made their drag debut at the Coney Island watch party and now work regularly across the city.
“Sometimes starting is the hardest part,” they said.
Beyond performances, the gathering functions as a rare intergenerational exchange. Younger attendees learn cultural references from queer elders; older guests stay connected to contemporary queer culture. In a moment of collective uncertainty, Ibadov sees that exchange as essential.
“Culture is what keeps us safe right now,” they said. “It gives people a place to escape — even if it’s just for two hours.”
For Ibadov, the party is inseparable from their broader civic engagement. A resident of Coney Island, they recently became the youngest member of Community Board 13 and were active in last year’s fight against a proposed casino development, using the watch party as a platform to raise awareness and collect signatures.
“I care about how culture and politics reflect each other,” they said. “This is all connected.”
As the winter drags on and Surf Avenue quiets, the ‘Drag Race’ viewing party offers something rare: warmth, visibility and a sense of belonging in a place that’s too often overlooked.
“This isn’t just about watching TV,” Ibadov said. “It’s about showing up for a neighborhood that deserves more.”
For schedules and updates, attendees can follow Tawk Productions and The Red Door on Instagram.
