How Kyla Kingsu Learned to Trust Her Place in the Room

Normally, Kyla Kingsu is the one asking the questions.

She is the one standing courtside with a microphone in hand, watching body language, listening between pauses, trying to find the story inside a match that has just ended or one that is about to begin. She is the one approaching athletes after long rallies, tough losses, statement wins, and emotional weeks, hoping to get past the answer everyone expects and reach something more honest.

But when the roles are reversed, when Kyla is the one being asked about her own life, the polished courtside reporter, host, and content creator slowly gives way to someone even more interesting: a young woman who is still learning, still stretching, still questioning herself at times, but has built a life around showing up anyway.

Today, many people know her from the Premier Volleyball League, where she has become one of the familiar faces of the broadcast as a courtside reporter. 

Others know her from UAAP Season 85, where she represented De La Salle University as a correspondent. Others follow her as a host and content creator, someone whose world moves between sports, fashion, beauty, lifestyle, events, and the kind of social media presence that looks effortless when it is done well.

But behind the ease is a lot of work.

For a PVL game day, Kyla’s preparation begins the night before. The shift from UAAP to the pros changed the rhythm of her work. In college, she had the chance to visit training sessions, speak to players ahead of time, and prepare reports days before a game. In the PVL, assignments can change. Reporters cover different teams. The pace is quicker. The stories have to be gathered, understood, and delivered fast.

So she studies.

She looks back at a team’s previous match. She checks who stood out, what the numbers say, and what the story of the last game was. She listens to previous reports so she does not repeat what has already been said. She goes through postgame interviews to understand what players and coaches have already shared. By the time she arrives at the venue, she already has players in mind and questions she wants to ask.

Early in her PVL career, she would keep her phone close, typing notes and saving quotes. Lately, she has learned to trust herself more. The preparation still matters, but now it allows her to be more present. Instead of clinging to a list, she can hold a real conversation. She can listen better. She can ask for better follow-ups. She can feel where the story wants to go.

“When I’m done with the interviews, when I’m doing my hair, that’s usually when I write my reports,” she says.

It happens quickly. By the start of a match, she has her pregame and first-set reports ready. From there, the broadcast becomes a balance between preparation and instinct. She carries what she calls her baon, all the details, quotes, themes, and context she has gathered, but she has learned not to force all of it into the telecast. 

The best report is not always the one with the most information. It is the one that fits the moment.

That is part of what makes Kyla good at what she does. She knows that reporting is not just about knowing what to say. It is also about knowing when something matters.

Her welcome-to-the-pros moment came in different forms. There were the obvious ones, like covering big PVL games, especially Creamline versus Choco Mucho, or opening matches of a conference when the energy in the arena feels bigger than the sport itself. Her time with La Salle helped prepare her for that. She had already felt loud crowds, high expectations, and the kind of attention that comes with representing a passionate school community.

But the deeper shift happened when she started hearing the stories behind the games.

In college, athletes are still beginning in many ways. They are growing into their careers, their identities, and their relationship with pressure. In the pros, Kyla felt something different. Volleyball was no longer only a dream or a proving ground. It was work. It was a livelihood. It was family. It was years of sacrifice becoming visible in every point.

“When they share those stories that really are deep and yung hugot nila, you can feel their heart,” she says.

That is when she understood the gravity of the job. A preliminary round game may look ordinary to someone watching casually, but for the athletes inside it, it can carry the weight of contracts, confidence, opportunity, and purpose. Kyla’s job is to make sure some of that weight reaches the audience.

Her way of doing that is rooted in empathy.

Kyla is honest about not being the person who grew up knowing every statistic or watching every league. When she started in the UAAP, that was one of the reasons she struggled with imposter syndrome. 

She felt like the only one who did not grow up immersed in sports or the collegiate community. She felt behind. She felt like she had to catch up to a world that everyone else already understood.

Over time, what once made her feel insecure became part of her edge.

Her questions are not always about tactics, numbers, or how a team plans to win. Often, they are more personal. How has the week been for you? What does this game mean to you? How are you seeing this moment? Why does this matter?

“I want to understand them,” she says. “It’s understanding how they see this game and understanding why this means so much to them.”

That is an important distinction. Kyla is not there to extract emotion from athletes. She is there to create enough trust for them to share what they are willing to share. She understands that some players are reserved. Some are tired of being asked the same questions. Some do not want to open up, and she knows she cannot push them.

The most she can do is show that she cares.

Still, the confidence people see now was not always there.

From the outside, Kyla can look like someone who knows exactly where she belongs. She enters rooms with warmth, style, and control. She speaks with the kind of calm that makes live television look easy. But she does not describe herself as someone who simply woke up confident.

In the beginning, especially in UAAP, imposter syndrome was loud.

She wondered if she knew enough. She wondered if she belonged. She wondered if people could tell she was new. At the time, she says, she might not have even been able to answer a question about confidence because she did not feel confident at all.

What changed was not a single breakthrough. It was repetition. Reps. Work. Experience. Proof.

“I can look back at my work and say, ‘Hey, I was able to do this,’” she says.

That is where her confidence comes from now. Not from believing she is perfect, and not from thinking she has nothing left to learn. It comes from being able to look back at a younger version of herself and realize that she survived what once intimidated her.

The people around her helped, too.

Boom Gonzalez has played a meaningful role in her growth. He was there for her first UAAP game and her first PVL game. He has been present for big assignments, giving notes, encouragement, and reminders that come from experience.

Sam Corrales, who trained her and became a close friend, is another important figure. Hosting UAAP events with Sam now feels full circle for Kyla, a reminder of how far she has come from the person who once needed guidance to the person now sharing professional spaces with her mentor.

There is also the production room, the people viewers never fully see but whose work shapes every broadcast. Since the UAAP and PVL communities overlap, Kyla has grown in an environment that feels familiar and healthy. She has seen how much people pour into the work, and that makes her want to give her best, too. She credits Synjin Reyes for being a big mentor in her journey, especially with how he challenges her every game day.

But Kyla’s story has never belonged to sports alone.

Before the media adventures, there was the business-minded student who wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps. Kyla took Applied Corporate Management at De La Salle University, a program with high standards and a competitive environment. Instead of one internship, she had three. She worked across different fields and companies, including Del Monte, Valens Research, and Sunnies Inc.

Marketing. Finance. PR. Beauty. Different teams. Different people. Different ways of thinking.

For Kyla, business taught her how to adapt. It taught her how to be quick on her feet, how to recognize opportunities, and how to keep growing even when she was new. Those same traits helped her when she entered sports, hosting, and content creation. She may not have followed the traditional corporate ladder, but the mindset traveled with her.

Her family shaped that mindset early.

Kyla grew up around business, with her family involved in the electric and power utilities industry. Because of that, she never saw leadership as something unavailable to her because she was a woman. Her parents gave her the belief that she could lead, build, and choose. As an only child, she carried their trust with her.

From her father, Kyla learned work ethic and self-trust. He is turning 75, and she describes him as the most hardworking person she knows. His age, experience, and wisdom have given her a model for how to make decisions, take opportunities, pass on the wrong ones, and trust her instincts.

His lesson was simple but lasting: You do not have to know everything at the start. You just have to trust that you can figure it out if you put in the work.

From her mother, Kyla learned permission.

Permission to try. Permission to begin. Permission to wear many hats. Her mother supported her through dance, sports, career shifts, and uncertain opportunities. She taught Kyla that being a beginner is not something to be ashamed of.

Kyla is willing to try because she was raised to believe trying is not failure. It is part of becoming.

In a world where creators are often chasing numbers, trends, and viral formulas, Kyla still believes the real separator is authenticity. She knows virality can be strategized. Short clips can be planned. Trends can be followed. But a loyal community is harder to fake.

“Nobody can be you,” she says.

Content is not only about reach. It is about finding the people who connect with the way you see the world. It is about understanding that even if not everyone is watching, someone might be listening. Someone might be learning. Someone might be inspired by the way you do things.

That same independence shows up in how she thinks about relationships and modern womanhood.

Kyla is single, and she is clear about the kind of partnership she believes in. She has always believed women can be whoever they want to be. If a woman wants to stay home, that is valid. If she wants to work, that is valid, too. For herself, Kyla knows she belongs on the working side.

Her career fuels her. It gives her purpose. She cannot imagine giving it up just to fit someone else’s idea of what partnership should look like.

Freelance life can be uncertain. There are busy weeks and quiet ones. There are gigs you get and gigs you do not. Sometimes, when her schedule is not as full, doubts creep in. Should she have focused only on business? Is this really meant for her? Is she doing enough?

But she also knows doubt is not always a sign to stop. Sometimes, it is proof that something matters. And deep down, Kyla knows she has poured too much of herself into this work to betray herself by walking away from it too easily.

She also understands the privilege of being able to choose. Not everyone gets to experiment with passions. Not everyone gets room to take risks. With that privilege comes responsibility.

That is where her “why” begins.

When asked what gets her up in the morning, what pushes her through tired days and long nights, Kyla returns to her parents. Her father’s philanthropy. Her mother’s faith. The values that raised her and the gifts she believes she has been given.

Her faith, she says, guides everything.

She wants to use her talents to help people. Sometimes that might mean inspiring someone through content. Sometimes it might mean lifting an athlete through a report. Sometimes it might mean a conversation that makes a person feel seen at the exact moment they need it.

That may also be why people are drawn to Kyla. Not simply because she is polished, talented, or easy to root for, though she is all of those things. It is because underneath the work is someone trying to do something good with what she has been given.

But the most important thing about Kyla Kingsu may be this: she is still willing to be a beginner. And maybe that is why her story feels so easy to believe in.

Kyla has not built her life around having all the answers. She has built it around the courage to keep becoming.