#the family international

[balloons-in-bold]

To Bring Forth Sweetness: A Prophet Slain

Part two of three in my series on growing up in a cult.

For further context you can read my the artist statement for part one here https://www.tumblr.com/balloons-in-bold/756747631527624704/a-struggle-in-secret-the-wedding-riddle-part-one?source=share

Growing up in a cult can be really damaging. I struggled through many confusing and lonely times, but there was also a lot of good. Everything joyous and nurturing about my childhood was a result of my parent’s mindful parenting. The choices they made can be traced back to their experience in the cult, and their desire to give us better than they were given. Harsh parenting, high control structures, and the inability to rely on family during their upbringing manifested conversely in an environment for us of love and support, a healthy celebration of novel experiences and guilty pleasures, and a rock solid family unit that could weather any storm.

And storms we did weather. After leaving my birthplace of Brazil, we moved to Taiwan, a locale that felt far more like home to my parents who had spent so many years in Asia before I was born. My mom grew up in Macau and met my dad during his time in Japan. Two years after making the move to Taiwan, a 7.6 magnitude earthquake rocked the island, displacing us and tens of thousands of others from their homes. While staying in refugee camps, my parents, displaying a rugged resilience cultivated by the cult’s outsider status, immediately got to work lifting people’s spirits with songs, clown shows, and distributing balloons. 

Twisting balloons was a widely taught skill in the cult, both as a way of making money, and as a form of community outreach. Balloons, music, and selling literature were the primary modes of support for many large commune homes due to the cult’s restrictive policies heavily discouraging the working of regular “systemite” jobs. Despite Asia being home in their hearts, my parents had to move us to America, to seek medical care for various health problems they were struggling with. Ever since the early days of the cult, David Berg prophesied a coming doom and destruction for America, which he styled as the whore of Babylon from Revelations 17. He preached against the relentless wars waged in foreign nations, and against the complacency of the American Evangelical churches in ignoring Jesus’s more radical teachings of asceticism and acceptance, styling himself as an iconoclast and table flipper in the image of Jesus rebuking the Pharisee establishment. I still carry these sentiments with me today. I was fed anti-America messaging throughout publications and music which worked with the isolating, not-of-this-world lifestyle to create an identity of elite separation from the country in which we lived. This, despite the often comically rabid christian-nationalist, pro Imperialist content found in the a-Beka homeschool curriculum we used. Cognitive dissonance and lack of certainty in what I was being taught would be an ever growing thorn in my worldview throughout my time in the cult. More important than the inconveniently present patriotism, was the lack of education about evolution in our curriculum. More than any other outside teaching, evolution was maligned as the most evil and dehumanizing work of Satan that we had to be indoctrinated against. As a supplement to the homeschooling material, we were given the Kent Hovind creationist seminars, which I, an enthusiastic student of science, practically memorized by heart. Many things could have ended up catalyzing my doubts in college, but learning about evolution from an unbiased perspective had me realizing I couldn’t rely on the trust I had in the worldview that had been forced on me, and the only way forward was to reevaluate everything from the ground up. I wrote in the previous part in this series on the isolation and loneliness I experienced as a result of being homeschooled. The limited opportunities for socialization was made up for with an encouragement of extracurricular learning. Since an early age I was taught how to teach myself, utilizing the library system, internet forums, and pirated software. I became skilled in Photoshop, 3D modeling, music, and eventually balloons.

Balloon twisting was a skill taught to me at the age of 16 by my parents. Many ex-cult members have negative feelings about balloons due to its association with the cult, but I value the connection as the convenient illustration of the unique circumstances throughout my family history that led to me being the person I am today. A history tracing back to my great grandfather, David Berg, who got his start preaching to wayward hippies at Huntington Beach in the late 60s. As well intentioned as the group may have started out, the radical views on sex that “Grandpa” developed, when combined with the all encompassing authoritarian nature of the cult he created, led to some truly stomach churning abuses. I was shielded by abuse in part due to the careful parenting of my parents, and due to the doctrinal overhauls that took place in previous generations after much international backlash and public scrutiny. A story of institutionalized abuse, coverup, reform, and gaslighting that I uncovered piece by piece as I was given more freedom to read the cult’s antiquated teachings. David Berg kept his likeness hidden for much of the cult’s existence in order to evade consequences for the abuses he perpetrated and made commonplace. Only after his passing did the cult release a photo book so his many thousands of followers could finally know the leader they’d been so dedicated to. When in hiding, his appearance was substituted with a friendly and wise old anthropomorphic lion character. This is the lion I would render in balloon form, to burn the man in effigy, mixing both crucifixion and heretic-at-the-stake imagery, a fitting end to such a self-styled rebel prophet. Out of his disemboweled corpse flows honey, like honey from the lion’s carcass that Samson would construct his riddle around. The honey meets with a hexagonal honeycomb pattern composed entirely of classic balloon dogs. The iconographic symbol of balloon art, connecting my family’s past in the cult with the medium I sculpt with today. The large 6 x 7 foot painting that makes up the background is a more abstract form of the sculpture’s themes of beauty and goodness derived from chaos and despair. The various textures are created using many different techniques and acrylic mediums. Palette knives, piping bags, and custom hexagon silicone molds were used with modeling paste, acrylic gels, and crackle paste to evoke the gore and viscera of a decaying corpse alongside the life and structure of a buzzing beehive.

Working on a project over both the long and short term, with paintings that take months, and balloon sculptures that take days, puts in perspective the complexity of understanding someone’s story. To truly understand someone, you need to take in both their immediate lived and felt experiences, and the sometimes long and complicated history and context within which those events take place. Creating this balloon sculpture for display while also setting up the rest of my exhibition posed more of a challenge than if I were to have worked solely in private. But it  all came together and I’m glad so many people got a chance to see it in person. There will be one final balloon sculpture/painting part in the series but I’ll be taking my time with it and setting up an event sometime in the future for its exhibition. Maybe as part of a group show; we’ll see. 

[malenkaya-glosoli]

A very good riddance to these two sick and evil creeps: David Brandt Berg (1919-1994) and his youngest biological child and second daughter Faithy (1951-2024), who has just recently passed away, and interestingly not long after the 30th anniversary of her father’s death. As a child she was one of his victims but as an adult she was just as sick and twisted as him, embracing her father’s disgusting doctrines and behaviour and helping him to spread them like a virus with no qualms or remorse. They were the founders and leaders of the Children of God s** cult today known as The Family International and have traumatised thousands worldwide through their teachings and practices, and to the point that many of those thousands are tragically no longer with us. The cult unfortunately still exists to this day and is led by Faithy’s five-years-older-than-herself stepmother Karen Zerby, who is equally sick, twisted and cowardly. Let’s just say these two have failed to reach the Heavenly City.

[ex-cogtfi]

This deeply disturbing children’s publication was created by COG-TFI and was required reading for children across COG-TFI. It taught children that illnesses and accidents are punishments from God for disobedience or spiritual failings and compared these events to being spanked. It explicitly promoted the idea that children are to blame for the illnesses and accidents that befall them.

Thus, when injured or sick, children in the cult were typically ordered to “pray about it”, ask God how they had transgressed against the cult’s teachings, and repent in order to be healed. This emotional abuse inflicted anxiety and false guilt upon children in COG-TFI, as they were blamed while suffering from untreated sickness or injury. The publication also depicts a child forcibly disrobed and in a humiliating position while being spanked, a form of abuse that was universal to children in the cult, and this image added to the shame that innocent children suffered while being sick or injured and being denied medical care.

[psychotrope777]

i've read into this cult for years and it's truly one of the worst, most terrifying organizations i've ever read about. i would recommend checking out xfamily as well

[randomwikiarticles]

The Family International (TFI) is an American new religious movement founded in 1968 by David Brandt Berg.[1] The group has gone under a number of different names since its inception, including Teens for Christ, The Children of God (COG), The Family of Love, or simply The Family.

A British court case found and formermembers claimed they were an authoritarian cult which engaged in the systematic physical and sexual abuse of children,[2] resulting in lasting trauma among survivors.[3] The group has also been accused of targeting vulnerable people.[4]

[p1nkshield]

Prompt idea: Danny has been attending Wayne family dinners for weeks now and he truly doesn’t know how he got this far

Danny has been without a home or a means to get food for a while because of either identity reveal gone bad or Dan timeline shenanigans. Either way he needs to eat. As a last ditch attempt Danny tries to attend/infiltrate a Wayne family dinner. He’s seen the Wayne kids around Gotham and he’s sure that he could look and act the part enough to get in the door and out with some bread rolls at least.

Was it his best idea? No.

But he sure as sugar ain’t firing on all cylinders rn.

And Bruce already has a gaggle of blue eyed, black haired children.

What’s one more?

Batfam of course notices immediately when a whole new kid shows up, grabs some miscellaneous pieces of food and then prattles off some excuse about “not being that hungry.�� (Clearly a bald faced lie) And that they were “Going to the library to study for finals, bye Dad!”

1. No one skips out on family dinners. Even Jason was here.

2. Alfred sets the table for everyone ahead of time and the kid had no place to sit.

3. Nobody in this house studies anything beyond case files.

4. Nobody in this house calls Bruce Dad.

Danny thinks he is suffering from success. No matter where he is in Gotham someone picks him up and insists he’ll be late for family dinner which is unacceptable.

Alfred just wants to feed the boy.

The batkids are amused by his efforts to look as though he’s been here all along.

Bruce is drafting adoption papers as we speak.

[isawthismeme]

[ddddd-pixels]

For International Asexuality Day, I'm hitting you all with the Ace Beam. ☺️

(This took a lot more effort than I thought it would, lol...)

Edit: 800 notes?! In less than five hours?! Thank you all so much!!

Edit 2: 2000... The most I got on any post before was just over a hundred, lol. You are all so nice!

[balloons-in-bold]

A Struggle In Secret: The Wedding Riddle

Part one of three in my series on growing up in a cult.

My upbringing in The Family International, formerly known as The Children of God, was a mixed bag. I had such a loving and supporting family, and many incredible experiences traveling and performing. Most of the latent effects of the isolation of homeschooling and living in a country with an especially difficult language barrier surfaced during my later integration into "normal" American life.

David Berg, my great-grandfather and the founder of The Children of God, died several years before I was born. Nonetheless, he remained an all important religious figure in our lives, behind only Jesus himself. My education and spiritual development was buttressed by decades of propaganda material, yet my cult experience wasn't as intense as previous generations. My parents did the best they could to shield us kids from the abuses they went through. The 2000’s marked the waning years of a cult that once boasted ten thousand members. The bustling commune homes that dotted the globe became fewer and less populated. Because of the cult’s lessened omnipresence, I wasn’t provided sufficient opportunities to develop my social and romantic skills properly, which, compounded with introverted tendencies, left me with few substantial relationships, a problem that persisted long after we had left the cult.

It took several years to stop blaming myself for my stunted development, and even longer to move forward on a path of self improvement. I had crippling social anxiety that I still feel clinging to me occasionally. Pulling up to a party or other social function, I’d feel jolts of electricity shoot through my body, and the adrenaline would drain my brain of coherent thoughts, leaving only an urgent sense of dread. My journey of self discovery and search for community and connection was made so much more difficult by the lack of shared experiences I had with those around me. Every time I mentioned my past, and how, no I can’t relate to your funny high school anecdote, I mostly got blank stares and a rush to change the topic. A surface level explanation didn’t come close to adequately bridging the gaps separating myself from those around me.

2022 Was when I determined that, in order to properly move forward, I needed to confront the remnants of isolation and alienation in as direct a way as possible. As an artist, that meant telling my story through symbolic imagery. Like a divine revelation, the story of Samson fighting the lion (Judges 14:5) entered my mind. A struggle in secret that no one at his wedding had knowledge of, and when presented with the riddle, had no chance of coming up with an answer (Judges 14:12-14).

The painting was at first only meant to be a quick solution as background imagery but grew into so much more. I layered to the collage portions of the canvas to tell the journey that stretched back thousands of years, starting with papyrus fragments, followed by King James bible pages, old MO letters, Life With Grandpa pages, and topped off with the A-beka christian fundamentalist homeschooling material. Expanding outwards and constricting inwards, leaving me trapped and isolated. The border has its cracks, fracturing under the cumulative dissonance of the inevitable internal struggle. The painted portion leads towards the center, down into a pit so deep, climbing out feels almost impossible.

I wanted to push the physicality of the balloon sculpture in a way I’d never done before. I drew inspiration from ukiyo-e images of samurai clashing with tigers, intertwining the two subjects in violence, hands grasping and claws slashing so deep that the two become one. I portrayed in Samson’s face, the rage and frustration I felt pent up over so many years, being released with the urgency and determination of a warrior assured that the fight is already his.

This first part in the series was finished and photographed a while ago in private, now being used as marketing material to promote my upcoming exhibition where I’ll be displaying the second painting and sculpture in the series. The next part, “Out Of The Strong, Something Sweet”, is an attempt to harmonize the darkest parts of my family legacy with the wonder and excitement, the joy and support I experienced throughout my upbringing in The Family International.

Please join me at The Jung Center of Houston, Texas for the exhibition, funded in part by Houston Mayor's Office of Cultural Affairs through Houston Arts Alliance, for the opening reception August 19th, 3pm to 6pm; and don’t miss my talk on the closing day, August 24th at 2pm to hear more about my art and journey.

[vaguely-concerned]

the strength it must have taken for illario to not immediately go full 'lmao since when have you even had a kiss hello lucanis' sibling violence mode during the café talk. inspirational. rook and lucanis really were doing all that right in front of his salad huh

[ex-cogtfi]

TW: child sexual abuse and other child abuse

The Family International cult (previously known as the Children of God) has attempted to whitewash their image as a happy Christian fellowship spreading God's love across the globe. Nothing could be further from the truth, as this brave survivor’s story demonstrates.

Music With Meaning (MWM) was a radio and television show created by the cult in the 1980’s. It generated significant revenue for the cult with its cheerful Christian children singing songs about faith and love. However, away from the public eye, MWM was rife with sexual and other abuse against minors, all in the name of the cult’s twisted interpretation of love (for more details see Music With Meaning - XFamily - Children of God).

This brave survivor shares her story of contracting a herpes infection in her eye whilst living in the MWM compound at only four years old. As a result of the abuse and medical neglect this survivor experienced, she has been left with lifelong vision loss.

Please share this story and help us hold the abusive leaders who are still operating and profiting from the cult accountable: bit.ly/3rt5Bms

[demigods-posts]

headcanon that when estelle is old enough. percy and annabeth take her trick or treating. and estelle dresses up in the loudest colors she can find. and claims she an international super spy. and percy and annabeth accompany her while wearing tuxedos. claiming that their her bodyguards.

[wistfulwatcher]

in a n o t h e r life

[findmeinthefallair]

Mindscape, based on this post I made weeks ago

The yellow light is Flapjack's life force 😭😭😭😭