"I just know Viola Davis is embarrassed to be from the same state as him."

Moxie looked up from her phone where her eyes had been glued for the past two hours. "Huh?"

"Giovanni Perez," Mick explained. He rolled her eyes as if she had asked him the most ridiculous question he had ever heard. "He's from fucking Rhode Island and he's gonna shit on their stellar reputation all because he's a big whiny loser who can't fathom that maybe the rest of the world has zero interest in what he has to say?"

"I don't know enough about Rhode Island to have an opinion, but I have a sneaking suspicion that nobody else has a strong enough opinion for them to have a stellar reputation to ruin." Moxie sighed after glancing back at her phone and realizing yet another second had gone by of her not receiving a response from any of her friends. "Also, Viola Davis definitely has no idea who this schlub is."

Now her brother looked at her like she was Rhode Island's most embarrassing export. "We've lived next to it for, like, half our life."

"You sound more offended on Rhode Island's behalf than the entirety of the bisexual community."

Too much silence followed before Mick yanked the phone from her hands and tossed it to the side. Thankfully, they were back on the tour bus where the Kings had far too many throw pillows and blankets than necessary. Not that it helped make her choice of seating much more comfortable. Floors were dirty places, but they were perfect for wallowing in misery. Not that it was her business buried in misery. Her name hadn't been splashed across a gross and disgusting headline, but she understood all too well the shittiness of having her sexuality questioned and invalidated. The rage she felt reading that article was unmatched regardless of who was his unfortunate target.

"You know that's not true."

"Could've fooled me." A tinge of guilt washed over her. "I'm sorry, that wasn't fair. I'm not trying to make you feel guilty for what that asshat said. It's just... it's shitty seeing someone say something like that about people you love, you know?"

After grabbing a couple of drinks from the fridge—definitely not that fuckass Olipop Lana had forced them to try the other day. Had to be worse than the hot dog water—Mick plopped himself down next to her on the floor. She held her hand out for what would be her first sip of anything that day, which she was embarrassed to admit, and he slid it into her hand after snapping the top open. Mick had this weird thing about always smelling like he had walked straight out of a shower. Since he had been using the same shampoo and body wash since he was twelve, it meant he always made her feel like she was back home, back when all they had to worry about was whether they missed their favorite reruns. It felt natural to lean into him as soon as he made himself comfortable on the floor next to her, allowing Moxie to close her eyes and travel back in time for one moment.

"You know how some people do that thing where they get overly emotional about something someone else is going through because they secretly feel hurt by it too?"

"No."

Mick laughed. "Yes."

"I..." Moxie sat up and leaned her head back. "I've spent my entire life feeling invalidated. And I finally feel like I'm in a place where I can maybe feel like myself completely and freely for the first time, but then shit like this happens and I realize how far we still have to go, even within the gay community. Like, it's not enough that we have to deal with people outside of the community. All of those regressive and shitty laws trying to get passed. All the fucking infighting and judgment and bullshit... fuck all of it. It's so fucking annoying. And I get it, this specific thing isn't about me, but I get it. I do. And it still hurts 'cause I know how many people have and would pull the same shit with me if I dared to threaten their paper-thin shred of an ego."

She found herself getting wound up again. Her body tensed up like she was preparing to jump into the ring. Moxie had never fought a day in her life, yet she believed she could sweep all ten rounds against Giovanni Perez based on pure rage. Unbridled female rage was somewhat of a remarkable feat, yet tragically sad at the same time. Effective but exhausting. Unwanted but desperately needed.

"Even worse is that he's just doing this 'cause he doesn't like Eddie for whatever fucking reason," she continued.

"That may be true, and I don't doubt that it is based on everything I've heard so far, but it hardly matters anymore. He's dragged a whole lot of others into his one-sided vendetta and brought back the very community he belongs to. It's bigger than just Eddie now. And while you were not mentioned in his pathetic excuse of an article, he attacked people you love and it's okay to be angry because of that. It's also okay to be angry because the act of a gay man targeting bisexual people, predominantly bisexual women, is upsetting and is the kind of thing people outside of this community latch on to when they attack any member of the LGBTQ community. It gives them an excuse to continue spewing the harmful rhetoric and bigotry they already demonstrate themselves. They think it justifies it."

Mick smoothed his hand over the top of her head before kissing it. As silly and playful as he often was, it was in these moments when Moxie felt like she was on the verge of falling over some invisible edge she couldn't see that he demonstrated his ability to keep both of their heads above water.

"You care a lot about people. But don't let that drag you down further. It doesn't help anyone, let alone yourself, okay?"

It wasn't that easy. At least, she didn't think it was. How does someone just stop caring about what happens to their friends? How does a woman watch a man attack so many other women and not feel hurt? It didn't help that she hadn't been able to get a hold of any of her friends. Maverick was busy, probably in a studio somewhere pouring his heart out. Eddie was likely using a punching bag as a placeholder for Giovanni. Stevie had a lot on her plate with MARS' busy schedule, though Moxie was still surprised she hadn't at least sent her a text to let her know she couldn't talk. Moxie had Jun and Lauren's numbers as well, but she figured if one MARS member didn't respond, then it wasn't likely any of the others would either.

Moxie had no idea why there was still radio silence from Cruella. That bothered her more than she cared to admit. Not that she had any right to demand a response from them. The "article" had only just been released. There was a lot that many people had to process.

An alert came in through Mick's phone and he used his free hand to pull it from his pants pocket. It took him all of five seconds to read whatever was on the screen and slide a cautionary glance at his sister. The way he angled it away from her told her everything she needed to know and she sat up straighter once again.

"What was that? Is it Cruella?"

"No. It's..." He sighed before unlocking his phone. Pulled up an article that was sent to him. A follow-up to the drama so-called by social media. "Stevie released a statement."

Moxie stole his phone faster than he could react, though she knew he wouldn't have stopped her. Her eyes scanned over the words, speeding through the unnecessary summary provided by the gossip blog before finally arriving at Stevie's devastating but brutal statement. As she read through it, Moxie tried to make sense of her thoughts and emotions, but each blow delivered with excellence only unearthed something new inside.

...

As a bisexual woman, I've been on the receiving end of unchecked biphobia more times than I can count, very often compounded by an added layer of misogyny, and it's unfortunate how often the blows are delivered by members of my own community. It happens so casually that while I am often still taken aback when it happens, I find myself becoming desensitized to it, which in itself is a problem. I have to accept that biphobia is something I will likely always have to deal with, the same way I have to accept misogyny as a reality, and the same way I have to accept racism as a reality. Except I shouldn't have to accept these things, and neither should anyone else.

Recently, a slanderous article was published whose sole purpose was to garner clicks while perpetuating some of the most harmful and hurtful biphobic rhetoric I've seen in a long time. (Not to mention riddled with factually inaccurate claims, but, then again, so is the entire article.) The publication through which this hideous display of biphobia was released holds immense responsibility for the harm it has inflicted on the bisexual community, but, more importantly, the author Giovanni Perez should be held accountable for his actions. To be a member of the LGBTQIA+ community and publish such an article wields the utmost shame, and I am beyond disappointed.

Bisexual people do not owe the world "proof" of their sexuality. If someone tells you they are bisexual, they are bisexual. You do not get to question or deny that fact. It doesn't matter if that person has never been with someone of the same gender, the same way cishet people are never questioned about being straight even if they've never been with someone else. Just as bisexual people who have only been with someone of the same gender are still bisexual. Sexuality is not defined by actions, nor is it defined by what you, a stranger, may perceive of someone you know only by name. As someone who exists in the public eye, let me be clear that nobody knows what goes on in my personal life, despite what you may think based on headlines you read or photographs snapped by paparazzi who stalk me and those around me. But that hardly matters because the problem of biphobia is not unique to celebrities and is experienced by so, so many people. And no, I am not in a "straight" or "straight-passing" relationship because relationships do not have sexualities, the people within them do, and not only am I unapologetically queer regardless of who I am or am not in a relationship with, the world would do best to move past the black-and-white binary facade they box themselves inside of.

Let it also be pointed out that queer people of color, especially queer women of color, are often some of the most invalidated members of the LGBTQIA+ community who face ridiculous demands that they prove their queerness more than their white counterparts. This is not a coincidence. It is a very deliberate tool of white supremacy weaponized against people of color in marginalized spaces. Reminder: the invalidation of someone's identity and the issues they face because of said identity (aka the denial of its very existence) is a violent form of discrimination.

I could speak in length about all the women, men, and nonbinary partners I've been with—romantically, sexually, etc.—but that would justify the witch hunt perpetrated by Giovanni Perez. Simply put—it is not his business nor anyone else's who I've been with. There is no burden of proof required for my sexuality. All you are allowed to know is what I'm comfortable telling you and it's that I am a proud bisexual woman. (And if there ever comes a time when I no longer feel comfortable discussing my sexuality, it is my right and prerogative to revoke that permission as nobody—out or otherwise—owes you their sexuality.) I am both a member of the LGBTQIA+ community and an ally to those identities I do not share because that is what true community means. Those who do not understand this have the utmost responsibility to educate themselves. Ignorance can no longer be an excuse to allow things like biphobia to go unchecked.

And for the record, MARS music is incredibly and undeniably queer, and specifically very bisexual. If you can't pick up what's directly in front of you, perhaps you should reevaluate your place as a "critic" of music and undeserved self-proclaimed title of arbiter of queerness. Some people just aren't cut out for journalism. It's time people accepted that.

Now, I would end this by saying kiss my ass, but I've got that covered, and he's a hell of a catch. My beautiful and loudly bisexual soulmate thinks so too.

...

The tour bus was quiet for a long time. The silence only broke when Roxanne entered to let them know they had business to take care of. Moxie wasn't sure she was even up for anything right then. Dealing with the bullshit of men was bad for business, after all. Mick, one of only two men she trusted with her life, picked up her obvious queues and utilized his skills to distract Roxanne while Moxie made a last-ditch effort to grab ahold of someone. Anyone. Anyone at all. And, given the recent release of a certain statement, she knew who her victim was.

Moxie was prepared to walk out of that tour bus completely empty-handed but, to her surprise, Stevie picked up on the first ring.

"Hey, girly pop."

"Hey." Moxie paused. Stevie was... chipper than she imagined she would be. "You haven't replied to any of my texts or voicemails."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." Stevie sounded somewhat guilty, but she could be a decent actor when she tried to be. "We've been so busy. Marty's been a little too trigger-happy with booking stuff for us. Someone has to tell that annoying bald head to cool it."

"That's... that sucks."

Stevie sighed. "Tell me about it."

"Stevie are you... doing okay?"

"Besides the whole barely sleeping thing? Alright, I guess."

"Not that." Moxie shook her head. Oh boy, this wasn't going the way she had hoped. "I mean the whole thing with—"

"I mean, I was supposed to go visit my girlfriend in London but had to cancel 'cause of him. So rude."

"—Giovanni Perez."

"Oh." That shut her up. Probably not the best idea. "It's fine. I've dealt with worse."

Moxie thought back to the statement. Someone like Stevie didn't respond to a lot of the things said about her in the media. She didn't like to draw attention to it if she could help it. So the fact that she had said something at all, but especially something as critical and direct as what she released, meant she did care. She cared a lot. And if there was anything Moxie could confidently say about her friend, it was that she would rather bury the pain than admit it hurt.

"It doesn't sound like it's fine."

"I don't even know who that man is." Stevie scoffed. "Some third-rate wannabe journalist who only gets any attention when he's being inflammatory? Who cares what he has to say?"

Moxie swallowed. "I care. And it's okay if you care."

Stevie cared. She made it very clear, regardless of how she was acting right now. Trying her best to pretend otherwise. But there was only so much Moxie could say over the phone to be effective at getting her to admit any of it, and Stevie knew that.

"If you won't talk to me, please at least talk to someone else, okay? I know you. I know this sucks. Call Bash. Leigh. Hell, Maverick knows exactly what—"

"Mav is busy too." Her reply was curt. Moxie closed her eyes. "I gotta go. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"Stevie—"

She ended the call.

Moxie felt like shit. Fuck Giovanni Perez.