For Max Cohen, comedy has always been more than making people laugh — it’s about celebrating the people, traditions and quirks that shaped him while reminding audiences that Jewish families, despite their unique customs, aren’t all that different from anyone else.
The 26-year-old East Rockaway native, better known as “MurrayHillBoy” to his nearly 2 million followers across social media outlets, has built a devoted audience through fast-paced comedy sketches featuring over-the-top Jewish mothers, dramatic family dinners and hilariously familiar Long Island personalities.
Behind the wigs, designer dresses and perfectly timed punchlines is a proud Jewish, openly gay Long Islander whose upbringing continues to inspire nearly every video he creates.
“I’ve always been a proud Jew,” Cohen said. “Now I also feel a growing obligation to represent Jews in a positive light.”
Growing up in East Rockaway with a mother, Lisa, who was raised in Hewlett and graduated from Hewlett High School, Cohen found himself balancing two worlds. While many Long Island Jews grew up surrounded almost exclusively by other Jewish families, his neighborhood was far more diverse.
“East Rockaway is Italian, Irish Catholics, Jews — it was kind of a mixed bag,” he said. “I think a lot of Jews grow up in a bubble where everyone’s Jewish. That wasn’t necessarily the case for me. I was well aware there were maybe 20 Jews in my grade and everyone else wasn’t.”
Rather than feeling isolated, Cohen said those experiences helped him better understand his own identity.
“Being exposed to lots of other communities and cultures helped me place myself in the world,” he said. “It gave me a little more self-awareness.”
His Jewish identity, however, remained constant.
“I think being Jewish is being part of a very small group of people who have shared cultural values and continue to persevere after centuries of people trying to make that not be the case,” he said. “Perseverance is really what I think about.”
Family became the foundation for both his values and eventually his comedy.
Like many Jewish households, holidays were major productions.
“We hosted every single holiday growing up,” Cohen recalled, “Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Passover — it didn’t matter. My mom’s side, my dad’s side, everyone was at our house.”
Those gatherings weren’t quiet affairs either, he recalled.
“Jews really value close family,” he said. “We’re encouraged to ask questions and argue. My family was talking and yelling over each other 24/7.”
While his fictional characters may be louder, flashier and considerably more dramatic than his real relatives, Cohen said they’re grounded in familiar experiences.
“We are not the family I portray in my videos,” he laughed. “I don’t even have a sister. I have two younger brothers. But everything is grounded in reality.”
Those realities have become comedy gold.
Whether it’s a mother demanding the perfect holiday table, a Long Island parent obsessing over camp packing lists or a family argument that spirals into complete chaos, Cohen’s sketches resonate because they’re rooted in recognizable moments.
“I usually start with one small moment,” he explained. “Maybe something I thought of in the shower or something that’s happening in the world, and then I build an entire story around it.”
His creative process is remarkably detailed. A single one-minute sketch can take nearly 14 hours from conception to publication.
“I write it, rewrite it, play every character, set up costumes, lights, props, edit everything, add captions, sound effects and music,” he said. “People think it’s just me throwing on heels in my mom’s house, but there’s so much that goes into making it look effortless.”
Much of that work still happens inside his parents’ home, which has become an unofficial television set for his growing cast of recurring characters.
“The house is basically another character,” Cohen joked. “The staircase has become iconic.”
His mother initially supplied much of the wardrobe.
“I wore all of my mom’s clothes,” he said with a laugh. “Eventually I ran out because once an outfit goes viral, people remember it.”
Today, Amazon boxes have largely replaced his mother’s closet, although family still plays an active role in every production.
Despite his growing success, Cohen never planned to become a full-time content creator.
After graduating from Tulane University with degrees in communications and English, he joined a prestigious Manhattan law firm’s paralegal program, fully expecting to attend law school.
Instead, he found himself increasingly unhappy.
“I looked around and realized everyone else genuinely wanted to become lawyers,” he said. “I didn’t.”
Looking for another path, he began posting videos on TikTok.
His first video reached roughly 400,000 views. By his seventh video, one had surpassed 1 million.
“I got lucky,” he admitted. “But I also became obsessed with figuring out why people stopped scrolling.”
That analytical mindset continues to shape every piece of content he produces. Cohen studies camera angles, pacing, captions and audience behavior with the precision of a researcher.
“You’re competing with everything,” he said, “puppies, breaking news, people getting arrested. Someone’s brain is basically turned off while they’re scrolling, so your job is to get it to turn back on.”
More recently, his work has taken on another dimension.
Launching his platform in the months following the Oct. 7, 2023 Hamas terrorist attacks and amid a sharp rise in antisemitism, Cohen quickly discovered that many followers viewed him as more than a comedian.
“I never intended to become an advocate,” he said. “Advocacy found me.”
Temples invited him to speak. Jewish organizations sought partnerships. Colleges across the country asked him to address students navigating difficult conversations about antisemitism and identity.
“What a great thing that happened,” Cohen said. “Making Jewish videos has encouraged people to be proud Jews at a time when somehow that feels controversial.”
He acknowledged receiving hateful comments online but refused to let them overshadow the overwhelming support he receives.
“For every antisemitic comment, there are hundreds of Jews laughing,” he said. “My content is always worth it.”
He expressed hopes that audiences, Jewish or not, leave with a better understanding of who Jewish families really are.
“I want people to realize Jews are just people,” Cohen said. “My Italian followers tell me it’s their family. Christians tell me it’s their mom before Easter. Jamaicans tell me it’s their dad. The details might change, but families are families.”
As an openly gay Jewish creator, Cohen also understands the importance of visibility.
For Cohen, growing up on Long Island wasn’t always easy, he said.
“There was definitely toxic masculinity,” he recalled. “Kids called me names after I came out. People were uncomfortable when I started dating my boyfriend publicly.”
Still, he said, the Jewish community largely embraced him.
“I’m loud, I’m proud, I’m gay and I’m Jewish,” Cohen said. “That’s my shtick. I’m not changing.”
Looking ahead, Cohen hopes his future extends well beyond the phone screen.
“I don’t want to make TikToks forever,” he said. “I’d love to create something for television or the stage. Social media opened the door, but I think there’s so much more I want to do.”
For now, though, he’ll continue turning everyday Jewish life into comedy — one family dinner, one holiday and one perfectly timed Long Island accent at a time.
“I just want to put good into the world,” Cohen said. “If people laugh, feel seen and walk away a little prouder of who they are, then I’ve done my job.”