Riding a Colorlined Bus

I have typically had the experience of riding comfortably on a polycultural, including multi-generational, populated bus. But, I also have memories of stepping onto a subway and not feeling I am welcome by my fellow-alien riders. And sometimes this goes OK, and somewhere the line keeps going out dark and darker as I get whiter and more mutually parasitic, like haunted and hunting bugs exploring each other's piece of the pond, sniffing fear and anger about needs and eco-tribal identities, or total defense against co-empathy. I have walked into a Louisiana bus stop with a brown-skinned friend to soon notice each of us would have been safer checking in without knowing each other than we were checking out as multicultural friends. I've been on a NYC train with my brown-skinned sons and felt like they were more welcome than I, and other Connecticut way more welcome than they would have been without me, profiled by angry women of color aggressive with those cellphones aimed toward the police, about my suspicious white man ways, what business could I possibly have with my own sons? Actually, now that I think about it, we often shared this question. How could we possibly have anything to do with or without each other? Whatever it is and has been, it is ours to do and not do, others to watch kindly, if possible, or not watch with the courtesy we are learning together, to continue exploring some other polycultural way.