Beyond the Byline: Mars El Brogy and the Stories That Bring Us Together
From a sculpture trail in Suffolk to the small rituals that make people feel at home, the Brit-Pinay storyteller reflects on listening closely, leading with care, and knowing what makes a story worth telling.
Words by Mye Mulingtapang
Photos courtesy of Mars El Brogy
Mars El Brogy: A Trail Towards Belonging
At Beccles station in Suffolk, waiting for a train to Lowestoft, Mars El Brogy began to reconsider the day she had been having. There had been painted hares to find, wrong turns to negotiate, and the satisfaction of discovering another sculpture. Yet what stayed with her was the succession of people who had helped make the journey: shopkeepers, volunteers, fellow sculpture hunters, and residents offering directions or sharing something about their town.
“Somewhere between waiting for that train and watching the platform fill and empty, it struck me that we had become part of something.”
The thought would follow her beyond the station and eventually onto a TEDx stage. An outing along the Hop to It! trail had given her a question about culture, community, and the ways people develop a relationship with a place.
“The hares had started as sculptures to find; they had become a reason to slow down, look properly at a place, and notice the connections between people, art and community.”
That shift in attention offers a way into El Brogy’s own story. Across her work in multimedia, interviewing, writing, and public speaking, she returns to the point at which an experience becomes something people can recognise in their own lives.
Curiosity takes hold
A trail becomes an encounter with a community. A conversation about a cookbook opens onto family rituals. A restaurant opening becomes a story about the distance between where someone lives and what still tastes like home.
Her account of the Suffolk trail also shows what happens after curiosity takes hold. In preparing her talk, she began investigating local government cultural strategies, employment in culture-related industries, and the wider value of investment in the arts. The personal experience needed a larger context. The research, in turn, gave the experience greater significance.
“A place needs strong policies, investment and infrastructure, but it also needs a sense of belonging and connection. Those are harder to measure, and they’re exactly the things arts and culture can create.”
“A seemingly small answer deserves another question: when it makes the story feel less like an interview and more like a shared experience”.
Belonging is a recurring concern in her answers. It appears in the relationship between an audience and a story, between colleagues working towards a deadline, and between the different cultures she carries into a room. Often, it begins with the willingness to pay attention before deciding what matters.
The Detail Worth Following
“When interviewing Nadiya Hussain about her Ramadan book, Rooza, El Brogy covered the expected subjects: the book’s inspiration, recipes, food, and faith. Then Hussain began describing Ramadan and Eid routines with her children. El Brogy heard a change in the conversation.
“I listen for the moment someone’s tone changes, when they become more specific, more animated, or start talking about something they clearly love. Those are the moments worth another question.”
Following that instinct meant giving the family details more space. They became the focus of a short video that, she says, generated more than 200,000 views across Instagram and TikTok. For El Brogy, the response made sense because the rituals gave audiences something familiar to recognise.
“That’s what tells me a seemingly small answer deserves another question: when it makes the story feel less like an interview and more like a shared experience.”
There is craft behind that apparent ease. An interviewer has to notice when an answer becomes more specific, then allow the conversation to move. The detail that seemed incidental to the original brief may become the reason the story connects.
One Story, Many Ways In
El Brogy applies a similar judgement when moving between platforms. Recalling her coverage of Jollibee’s first UK branch in London’s Earl’s Court, she describes securing an exclusive with a three-day window. It was a story with commercial significance, but also one full of queues, anticipation, nostalgia, and people travelling for familiar food.
Each format brought a different part of that experience forward. Written coverage could explain the arrival of a Filipino brand and the demand surrounding it. Photographs could linger on faces and families. Video could carry the sound, movement, and immediacy of the opening.
Food gives her an opening for humour, too. After describing the editorial work involved, she adds: “And if a peach mango pie helped focus the mind along the way, I’d argue that was simply thorough research!”
“The core story didn’t change, but its emphasis did. The article gave readers the “why it matters”; the images gave them the atmosphere; and the short video gave them the feeling of being there.”
Walang Iwanan: Leave No One Behind
For her, that value takes practical form in checking on colleagues, sharing knowledge, and making sure people feel supported. The work still has to get done, but the deadline cannot be the only thing a team is asked to care about.
“It means checking in, sharing knowledge and remembering that a deadline is important, but so are the people trying to meet it.”
“One Filipino value I carry into work is walang iwanan — “leave no one behind”.”
“It means checking in, sharing knowledge and remembering that a deadline is important, but so are the people trying to meet it.”
Welcoming the Reader In
Her approach to writing about food, faith, and family carries that hospitality onto the page. Discussing her Good Food essay about Ramadan, she describes a careful balance: enough explanation to welcome readers into an experience, while keeping its memories and emotions close.
“I try to treat the reader as a guest in the conversation, rather than someone I need to lecture.”
The distinction matters when a personal experience reaches an audience unfamiliar with its traditions. Too little context can leave readers outside the story. Too much can pull the writer away from the smells, people, and routines that made the experience meaningful in the first place.
“But if explaining every detail starts to pull me away from my own experience or makes something intimate sound like a case study, then I know I’ve gone too far.”
Seated alongside Nadiya Hussain, Mars El Brogy demonstrates the value of conversations that go beyon In the kitchen, food becomes another language for memory and belonging. Mars El Brogy's interest in Seeing her work represented in the pages of Good Food brings together two enduring interests: food a
She brings a comparable awareness of boundaries to telling her own story. Public-facing work does not, in her view, create an obligation to make every part of a life public. Her first TEDx talk, about redefining leadership, drew on barriers, self-doubt, and what those experiences had taught her about the leader she wanted to become.
“My first TEDx talk, on redefining leadership, was probably my most vulnerable.”
Sharing that experience required judgement about its purpose. She describes openness as something that can help another person recognise themselves or feel less alone, while still allowing the speaker to retain a private life.
It is a useful question for someone whose work involves both inviting others to speak and deciding what to disclose herself. Connection depends on trust, and trust needs boundaries people can understand.
“When I’m deciding what an audience needs to know, I ask a simple question: does this detail serve the story, or is it just personal exposure?”
Access, Independence, and Trust
Those boundaries also enter her discussion of journalistic access. El Brogy values the openness of good relationships with public relations professionals and the preparation that helps everyone understand the purpose and practical conditions of an interview. Yet she draws a clear line around editorial judgement.
“Access can make a story possible, but it should never determine what a story is allowed to ask.”
Her emphasis is on establishing expectations before the conversation begins, including what is on or off the record and where sensitivities may lie. She presents preparation as a way to ask challenging questions with clarity.
“It doesn’t mean softening the journalism. It means being professional to ask challenging questions without ambushing someone.”
When choosing stories, she starts with the publication or channel and the people it serves. Analytics can reveal what audiences read, watch, share, and search for. They can also expose gaps: questions being asked without a substantial answer, or perspectives appearing repeatedly without receiving proper attention.
“Sometimes the most valuable story isn’t the loudest one, but the one that hasn’t yet been told properly, or the perspective that keeps appearing in comments, searches and conversations without a full platform of its own.”
Alongside that evidence sits the responsibility of being trusted with someone’s experience. Her account of commissioning brings audience knowledge, curiosity, and editorial judgement together. A story needs a reason to reach its audience, and the people telling it need to handle that trust carefully.
Making Room for the Next Generation
Her advice to those entering the industry has changed as the tools have changed. More than two decades ago, she placed greater emphasis on securing work experience as a route into broadcasting. She still values learning from experienced colleagues, but now sees more ways to begin developing a voice and demonstrating the craft.
“My message now would be less about waiting for someone to give you access and more about using the tools available to start creating, learning and showing what you can do.”
That encouragement continues in her hopes for the Mars Award for Multiplatform Content, which she says has been running for more than a decade. She wants student creators to experiment across video, social edits, live work, podcasts, explainers, and carousels, while understanding how each can serve the same story. She also wants their work to grow from the communities around them.
“Student television is at its best when it reflects the people around it: the societies, campaigns, local stories and voices that might not otherwise be heard.”
The practical lessons matter as well: planning, deadlines, teamwork, leadership, and adapting when things go wrong. Her ambition for young creators includes the confidence to try and the skills to keep working when a first attempt becomes difficult.
Beyond the Titles
Asked what she would continue doing if professional titles no longer introduced her, El Brogy returns to the work itself.
“What draws me to this work is not the title attached to it, but the opportunity to amplify voices that might otherwise go unheard.”
Back at Beccles station, that instinct had begun with noticing the people around an apparently straightforward day out. The trail had offered a destination, but the conversations changed what the journey meant. Across El Brogy’s answers, the same attention keeps returning: to the detail worth following, the colleague worth checking on, and the voice still waiting for room.
“Stories have the power to preserve experiences, challenge perspectives and create connections between people who may never meet.”
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