Wednesday, February 13, 2019 by C. Michial Jones
Every long-term dojo owner has a “founding story,” but few talk about the identity crises that happen along the way. As I recently celebrated the 25th anniversary of opening my own doors, I found myself reflecting on the names that have graced my mats and the hard-won lessons that came with them.
Breaking Away: 1994
My teaching journey began at my father’s dojo. I moved from leading warm-ups to children’s classes, and eventually to Chief Instructor. However, by the winter of 1993, I realized that my path was diverging from the curriculum I inherited. I wanted to pursue a more authentic Okinawan karate—something I couldn’t do under the existing banner.
Following the advice of Mr. Phillip Koeppel, I made the difficult decision to step out on my own. On January 2, 1994, I opened Mike Jones Karate-do Budokai. It was personal, it was clear, and—as it turns out—it was easy to pronounce.
The Search for Authenticity: The Yushikan Era
As I went deeper into the Okinawan arts, I felt the dojo needed a name that reflected its roots. I chose Yushikan. For nearly ten years, I taught out of a private dojo on my property.
During this time, I was also serving as a Law Enforcement Officer and eventually as a Chief of Police. Tired of “commercial karate,” I made the dojo private and highly selective. The training was old-school and hardcore; it wasn’t for the faint of heart, and I was notoriously tough on my students—especially my own children. In that private space, “Yushikan” made perfect sense. It was our secret language.
The Shift: 2014 and the Public Eye
By 2014, the landscape of my life changed. The political climate surrounding law enforcement was shifting, and after the Ferguson riots, I felt it was the right time to retire from the force and begin a new chapter.
In January 2015, we opened a much larger, public facility. My family and black belts sat down to discuss the name. We worried that “Yushikan” would be a barrier to entry—hard for the average person to pronounce and even harder to understand. We chose a “catch-all” name: Okinawan Martial Arts Center. We thought it was a perfect middle ground—it described exactly what we taught: Karate, Kobudo, and Toide.
The Reality of Marketing
You would be surprised how many people in a small town struggle with the word “Okinawan.” And don’t even get me started on the number of phone calls I’ve received from people looking for “marital advice” because they misread the sign.
In hindsight, there was a simple brilliance to “Mike Jones Karate.” It was recognizable and direct. However, a dojo name should be built for the future. Eventually, my sons will take the reins of this legacy, and the name needs to belong to them, too.
Advice for the Next Generation
If you are considering opening your own dojo, my advice is simple: Keep it simple. From a marketing standpoint, “regular people” often don’t understand the nuance of Japanese terminology. Name your dojo after your city, your county, or your family name. Save the traditional names like Yushikan for the inside of the dojo—for the students who have earned the right to understand what it means.
After 25 years, I’ve learned that while the name on the building might get them through the door, the quality of the training is what keeps them there. Whether the sign says “Jones Karate” or “Okinawan Martial Arts Center,” the sweat on the mat remains the same.
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