

This reflection is part of Bridging Barriers: Conversations Across Legal Cultures—an oral history series by Emails to a Young Lawyer that documents the journeys of lawyers navigating legal education and practice across borders, with a focus on how law intersects with culture, communication, and identity.
Each post in the series features the personal reflections and takeaways of the host, curator, and interviewer Can Yildirim, based on in-depth conversations with globally minded legal professionals.
For this feature, the interviewee preferred not to make the recording public, a choice we fully respect, as oral history depends as much on trust and boundaries as it does on shared insight. In place of a video, we are pleased to share both this reflection and the full transcript, which is available at the end of the post.

BRIDGING BARRIERS: CONVERSATIONS ACROSS LEGAL CULTURES
An Oral History Series by Emails to a Young Lawyer
Curated & Presented by Can Yildirim
Interview No. 7
Learn more about the Bridging Barriers series, read my reflections on the previous interviews, and watch their recordings HERE.
Ilke studied law at Ankara University, built a career in one of Istanbul’s leading tech-focused law firms advising clients like Google and Microsoft, earned a Fulbright Scholarship, and chose Berkeley Law to specialize in technology and AI. Her CV is replete with impressive names. However, it was her clarity in understanding her path that resonated above all else in our discussion. She identified law as a means of reshaping systems, expanding access, and elevating technology to aid decisions.
That sense of purpose became even more visible as she described the moment she realized she needed to leave Turkiye; it was less a moment of dissatisfaction and more one of recognition. While advising global tech clients in Istanbul, she found herself constantly translating decisions made thousands of miles away. She was interpreting U.S. policies for local companies, adapting American doctrine into Turkish contexts, and unpacking choices she could analyze expertly but never witness firsthand. She said that it became clear that if she wanted to understand technology law at its core, she would have to be where those decisions were made.
That decision brought Ilke to Berkeley, where she encountered an entirely different educational culture. In Turkiye, lectures moved in a single direction: professors spoke, students listened, and the former measured mastery through command of doctrine. In the U.S., she stepped into a classroom where questions mattered more than answers, and the Socratic method pushed her to test, stretch, and sometimes even unsettle rules.
Some of Ilke’s most meaningful learning and experiences happened outside the classroom. In an early simulation of her U.S. advocacy course, Ilke approached the assignment the way any well-trained civil law lawyer would: anchored in rules, heavy with citations, and structured with formal precision.
Her instructor surprisingly rebuffed this methodical dissection in favor of what they found missing: the story.
They wanted to understand the human situation behind the rule, her intentional amalgamation of the facts, and the lived reality that gave the precedent meaning. And for the first time, she saw the difference not as stylistic but philosophical. Civil law often begins with a rule and flows down to the individual. Common law starts with one’s story and uses rules to reach the desired result.
Through these experiences, she built the ability to balance and wield both traditions. Her civil-law instincts, discipline, structure, and analytical rigor didn’t fade; they provided a framework as she navigated the common-law world. In turn, her common-law training bolstered her narrative artistry.
If adapting to a new writing style required intellectual flexibility, adapting to a new professional culture required something subtler: unlearning hierarchy. Cross-border lawyering, she realized, is not simply mastering doctrines. It is, most fundamentally, learning how each culture expresses trust, authority, and partnership, and moving between those expressions with sensitivity.
Ilke’s dual background gave her remarkable strengths. In Turkiye, she had learned to read the political and social backstories behind new regulations. She instinctively understood how the law responds to crises, loopholes, and public pressure.
But in the U.S., she lacked that sociohistorical context. She found herself asking professors:
What event shaped this rule? What controversy is behind this case? Why does this doctrine exist?
Questions like these seemingly expose vulnerability. In Ilke’s global LL.M. cohort, however, they expanded the conversation. With 275 students from over 40 countries, discussions naturally needed contextual reinforcement to unleash the potential for comparative conversation. It could through background encompass Mexican administrative law, German jurisprudence, and Turkish constitutional norms.
Her questions encouraged others to bring their systems into the room, and what began as uncertainty became perspective. This pattern permeates this series. The fear of being perceived as uninformed or insufficient precludes learning, while asking questions fearlessly often yields the sharpest insights.
Although immersed in advanced tech law covering AI governance, privacy, and platform regulation, Ilke’s perspective is polished by her unwavering commitment to access.
In Turkiye, she worked on a legal software tool that helped small businesses apply for World Bank green funds, support they could never afford to pursue through traditional legal channels. With automation, she made the once-impossible, now accessible.
This exemplifies Ilke’s vision for technology: a boundless force for widening legal access for underserved communities. For her, innovation without inclusion is unfinished work.
When I asked what she would say to someone five years her junior, Ilke began with:
“Don’t build your future around other people’s fears.”
She then expanded:
Bridging Barriers asks how lawyers become fluent across systems without losing themselves in the process.
Ilke’s story answers this by example.
She did not come to the U.S. to erase her civil-law foundation, but to build upon and alongside it. She did not cross borders to chase prestige, but to stand closer to the centers of change in her field. She did not enter the center of tech to distance herself from the margins, but to find new ways to serve them.
Her journey shows that becoming a global lawyer is about learning how each identity sharpens your understanding of the law’s human impact.
And her story provides this series one of its clearest reminders: You don’t bridge systems by waiting to feel like you belong. You bridge them by stepping into the room and discovering the belonging as you speak.