It isn't easy being the sexy bin Laden

It made her feel cursed, presumed guilty-made her wonder if it might keep her from ever getting a record deal. So she took her mother's maiden name, Dufour, which makes for a better first impression, even though the bin Laden taint is always there.

Ms. Dufour, who's vague about her age but almost certainly younger than 30, sits down at a good corner table and thanks me for helping her tell her story. "It's really important for me," she says with a French accent. "I was born in the States, and I want people to know I'm American, and I want people here to understand that I'm like anyone in New York. For me, it's home.

"It's really tough that I have to always explain myself," she continues in a soft, husky voice. "It's like every time I meet someone, I have to move a huge mountain that's in front of me, and sometimes I get tired."

The face is alluring (big dark eyes, long lashes, plump lips, caramel skin), but she looks wounded. And there's something else. At first I can't quite figure it out, but then it hits me: She looks a little like her uncle, albeit a waify ninety-eight-pound tiny-footed version. Sexy Osama!

I hold that thought while I listen to her explain that she's his half niece and one of hundreds of bin Ladens, most of whom are in Saudi Arabia, where she hasn't been since she was 10.

Wafah Dufour in GQ

She has no contact with most of her relatives, including her father, doesn't speak Arabic, has an American passport. The list goes on. "At the end of the day, I believe that the American people understand things and they have compassion and they see what's fair," she says. "They're very fair, and that's why I love America, and that's why my mom loves America."

She says she has never met Osama bin Laden.

"Everyone relates me to that man, and I have nothing to do with him," she says.

"It is all so tough for me... I just cannot be afraid anymore," she says, tears streaming down her beautiful face. "I am lost. I don't fit anywhere. I am American. I want to live here. This is my home. I was born here. God blessed me with this passport of freedom.

"But because of this last name that I have nothing to do with, the Western world hates me. And because I've chosen American values, the Saudi Arabian world hates me.

"What have I to do with Bin Laden? My mother lived in Saudi Arabia only five years, and for 15 has fought for a divorce. However, a Saudi wife can't be divorced if the husband fights it, and to be sure, she can't marry again - my father won't allow it. I haven't even seen him since I'm 18.

"We are estranged from his entire family since I'm 10. I'm carrying a burden that has nothing to do with me.

"My father, Yeslam, is half brother to Osama. I never met Osama. Never even saw him. My father's father had 22 wives. I have 53 uncles and aunts, 300 cousins. It's way over 400 people. Tons I've never even met. The bin Ladin family is a village."

More tears. More Kleenex.

"I am trying to live the American dream. I was educated here. My mother, who has no money because my father won't give her any, paid for my master's in Columbia. Thank God my blessed mother, who's half Swiss, half Persian and is my everything, took her daughters away to Switzerland, or else I, too, would be forced into life under the veil. She left for freedom, which is what America believes in. That's all I want. The freedom to not be scared all the time."

Scared of what?

"My father doesn't speak to us. I don't know him. He is very wealthy. Saudi men command all the power and law. I have no protection. I don't speak Arabic. I don't have a Saudi passport. I play guitar. I write and sing music. To the Arab community, I am an 'infidel.' My mother worries that some fundamentalist will do away with me.

"Even here, I am frightened. I'm victimized by association. I stay under the radar, since, because of my name, people here feel I have harmed them. But I can't keep hiding. I can't live this way. I ask nothing but to be accepted in the United States. "I don't even use this terrible last name anymore. Professionally, I'm Wafah DuFour. It's my mother's maiden name. But I won't change Wafah. That means 'the faithful one.' "

Last year, her mother, Carmen bin Ladin, wrote a best-selling book. "Inside the Kingdom: My Life in Saudi Arabia" is now headed for a film. Besides that income, how is Wafah being supported?

"I'm a paralegal and I give French lessons. Some Greek-American school friends are good enough to share with me. I am living in one friend's apartment. I have never set foot in any nightclub. I have no boyfriend. Thanksgiving, I fed the homeless in a soup kitchen. I am not a bimbo.

"I don't want sympathy. I ask only that people try to understand."

And where was Wafah DuFour, or 'Wafah bin Ladin,' on 9/11?

"June 2001, I graduated and went to spend the summer with my mother [in Switzerland]. That morning, I was with her in her car. A friend here called to tell us. It was unreal. Like everyone, we freaked out. New York hit! It's the end of the world. New York's part of me. New York's my home. I had a loft downtown. My close friends worked in the Twin Towers. I couldn't reach any of them. I was devastated.

"That same night, CNN began saying, 'bin Laden... bin Laden...' I was horrified. So ashamed that I can't even talk about it. I wanted to fly back because I lost friends, but Mom said, 'No, you will have problems. It's going to be tough from now on.' "

Wafah took to her bed in a state of depression for six months. Her big brown eyes teared up again. "My father's family knew I lived in New York. And you know, neither he nor anyone even called to see if I was OK."

The singer-songwriter survived by writing music. And what sort of voice has she? "Sort of Chrissie Hynde meets Toni Braxton." And how's she doing career-wise? She's working on an album, making a demo, and she's hired savvy Richard Valvo, who for six years handled PR for Star and the Enquirer.

"Americans are fair and compassionate. I just want understanding. Americans feel I am part of the family who did this horrible thing. I am not. This country is blessed and good.

"Please, please tell everyone that I love being an American."

Excerpt courtesy GQ Magazine. ASG staff and agencies.