The Shakespearean Question

In Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare has Juliet ask the iconic question: “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet.”

The idea, of course, is that names are superficial—mere labels that don’t define the true nature of a person or thing. But is that always the case?

When a Name Becomes Personal

I find myself disagreeing, at least in part. Today, I’m about to call my sister. I look at her name pop up on my phone: Barbara Major. After her divorce, she resumed our maiden name—Major. It’s the name I grew up with, but not the name my father was born with.

His birth name was Joseph F. Majkowski. His parents, my grandparents, had emigrated from different parts of Poland—my grandmother from Gdańsk along the Baltic Sea in the north, and my grandfather from Majkowice in the south, near Kraków.

The Immigrant Story Behind the Name

My father was born in Queens, New York in 1898 and served in World War I in the engineering division. When he returned, he faced discrimination in the job market. As the story goes, companies—often run by Anglo-Saxon Protestants—were reluctant to hire people with clearly ethnic names, especially Polish ones.

So, he did something bold and pragmatic:

He changed his name.

With a few quick edits, “Majkowski” became “Major”—a name with a distinctly British tone. That small shift opened doors. He landed a job at Diehl Manufacturing, a division of Singer, and worked his way up to factory foreman.

Growing Up Major

And so, I grew up with the simple last name Major. It sounded normal, easy, unremarkable. But now, I look at it and think, how bland. Maikovska feels much more like me—more vibrant, more true.

Discovering Identity Later in Life

At some point after my grandmother died, I learned something that changed how I saw myself: I didn’t even know I had a Polish father. It was like discovering a hidden part of myself—something that should have been obvious, yet had been tucked away to fit in better with the world.

I found myself increasingly frustrated by the fact that people, like my father, had to erase their identity just to get a fair chance. That simmering frustration became clarity when I watched the miniseries Roots, the saga of Alex Haley tracing his ancestry back to Africa which aired on ABC for eight nights in January of 1977. It hit me hard.

Reclaiming My Name

So in 1979, I changed my name back to honor my heritage. I didn’t choose the original Polish spelling because I knew Americans would stumble over it. The Polish “W” sounds like a “V,” and “J” sounds like a “Y” or “I.” So I chose a version that still felt authentic but was easier to pronounce: Maikovska.

One final detail: in Polish, gender plays a role in names. Since my father was the son of Majkow, his name ended in -ski. As a daughter of Maikov, my name ends in -ska.

What’s Really in a Name?

It turns out, quite a lot. A name can carry the weight of history, the pain of assimilation, the joy of discovery, and the power of self-definition. So maybe Shakespeare was partly right—a rose by any other name might still smell as sweet.

But knowing its true name? That can change everything.