My Grandmother, the Blackbelt Judo Legend
“I had teachers who said I have a 3-dimensional mind,” my grandmother explained. “I can close my eyes and see how to construct something. I can see how it works, rotate it in my head and see all views of something I want to construct.”
Although Janice Adrianne Karwowski had aspired to be an architect and pursue a creative career to construct the world, her dreams were put on hold to be a housewife. To occupy her newfound free time, she took up the Japanese form of martial arts judo. Once she joined the Mount Clemens Judo club in 1967, she quickly noticed the differences between the senseis treatment of men and women.
“When I first joined the judo club, there was only one night a week that women were allowed to come. Basically it was teaching self-defense,” my grandmother explained. However, she came with a natural skill to judo—it was in her blood. She had flexibility from her experience as a cheerleader in high school and balance from being on the ski team.
“Sensei Dr. John Kirchoff took a real liking to me because I was so athletic. He knew I had different kinds of physical abilities from the rest of the girls,” she stated. Soon after joining the club, she rose quickly to the top of the pack and earned her green belt in record time. With no one else to beat, my grandmother’s sensei decided that she needed more of a challenge. Along with her months of pleading, he finally let her attend classes with the men.
The men in the Mount Clemens judo club were upset that my grandma was “invading” on men’s might—her husband included. “I don’t know why, but I always ended up being better than him no matter what we did– whether it was judo or not,” she explained. “It just made him mad.”
My grandmother had, and still has, a strong will. She knew how many women were depending on her to prove their abilities to join the class. She was not going to let the snarls of a few men ruin this monumental opportunity.
“Ted Kilanowski, one of the macho guys, wanted to randori—a judo term used to describe free-style practice—with me in the very first class. That was the only time he ever threw me, and he almost buried me in the mat. I mean I almost went three stories down, so I will never forget that,” she added. It was evident that the men were trying to scare her out of the class, but she did not budge.
“I had a single closet to change in, whereas the men got a whole locker room.” At this time, women in Michigan were still not allowed to compete in the tournaments. The only thing that they let my grandmother do was keep time, and even that they were hesitant about. In between her rounds of timekeeping, she would buttheads with the tournament leaders and make points on why women should be able to fight in the tournaments. Little children were allowed to fight, but women still weren’t.
After months of training and beating the men in her class, my grandmother was eventually elected as an officer in the judo club by her sensei. However, this was not easy work. These months were spent getting sexually harassed in the judo club, treated as insubordinate by other members, and not taken seriously when sharing her view about genuine topics.
With this new position, she was determined to break barriers never seen in Michigan athletics before. Soon after her appointment to the board, everyone in the club was able to work out every night of the week, regardless of gender. Her push for equality earned women the right to compete in state competitions. The only condition was that they had to keep up with the class, which my grandmother added she “could do in her sleep.” Janice Karwowski soon began to become a famous name among female judo competitors in Michigan, shortly after she became a judo legend in the entire midwest, and then across the nation. “I was the first competitor in the state of Michigan to win a national competition, male or female. First place in the nation in my rank.”
Her judo career brought her many experiences that women during the 1960s were rarely offered. “It would be the pushing that I did throughout the 60’s that gave women the ability to compete in judo in Michigan,” my grandma explained. “We started competing in it, you know, because of me. I really pushed, and I wanted everyone to be able to work together—regardless of gender.”
However, judo did not halt her ability to be a mother either. By the time her kids were 5 years old, they all had orange belts themselves. She even competed in judo tournaments while she was pregnant. “They wouldn’t let me compete one year because I was pregnant—only like three of four months—but the state of Ohio refused,” grandma continued, still noticeably upset at the manner. “I was already used to it, did it with my other kids, and doing your regular activity when you’re pregnant is normal.”
After many consecutive years of winning national championships and forming her own judo club (the Robichaud Judo Club), my grandmother was asked to teach judo at Wayne State University in 1988. For seven years she was the sensei to hundreds of lucky students enrolled in Judo 1 & Advanced Judo 2 and still today, her name still carries a legacy across Michigan colleges. Her secret she shared with me is, "To be a truly great teacher, one must never stop learning."
“Patience and humility—there are so many things judo teaches you,” she explained. “It is not just a sport, it shows you how to be part of your surroundings and rely on your instinct,your natural feelings. It was a good thing to have all throughout my life.”