"Do you have a boy or a girl?"

"Yes."

This is our standard response to the question that gets posed all too often — when getting to know new colleagues at work, when meeting someone for the first time and making small talk.

Talk about children is common and usually easy, but for us, it requires a never-ending decision. It's a question of education fatigue — do we answer honestly and spend the next 10 to 30 minutes helping someone get their head around a non-binary identity, or do we let them assume gender based on the photos on our desks?

This is a dilemma that our kid, Caius, faces every time they walk into a new place and meet new people.

Do they accept the assumptions people make about them based on the way they look, or do they make themself the centre of attention and try to explain?

Most of the time Caius wants to focus on playing the sport, joining in the games, and being just another kid. But the misgendering chips away at them, and they hold all of that distress inside until they can come home and let it all out.

'A boy and a girl'

Ever since Caius learned to talk, they have been steadfast in their nonconformity to gender rules and how gender relates to them.

One of the first things we remember Caius saying was that they are a boy and a girl, something they still say almost 10 years later.

Their gender identity has been strong, stable and consistent, while their gender expression has taken a more meandering course over the years.

Caius is constantly frustrated when grown-ups around them don't understand the distinction — the clothes they wear and the length of their hair do not equal their gender.

When Caius was three and at kinder, they wore what they wanted, and at home practised saying "all clothes are for all people". They used air quotes to refer to "girl clothes" and "boy clothes" with a characteristic eye-roll.

When Caius started school, however, they desperately wanted to fit in and tried so hard to put themself in a binary box, following gender stereotypes militantly, making themself miserable in the process.

The small joyful being who had climbed on the table to dance to Hi-5 with abandon was replaced by a serious and sad little person who preferred to stay at home and not engage with anyone.

To this day, shopping for clothes remains one of Caius's most hated chores, an exercise in frustration for them and for us. Everything is categorised and labelled as "for girls" and "for boys", and while they know they can wear either, it causes constant friction for them; another reminder that the world doesn't accommodate people outside society's restrictive binary.

Caius at five, starting to feel freer at a new school, wearing carefully chosen clothes. ( Supplied )

'They' was a revelation

Caius was six years old and in first grade when they learnt the language to describe the way they had always felt. The realisation that there was a word, "non-binary", that expressed their experience of gender was a relief — maybe they were not the only one to ever feel this way.

Sometime later, we met someone using the pronouns they/them, and it was a revelation for Caius to know that there was a choice other than he or she.

What Australia thinks of gender pronouns The majority of Australians (59 per cent) agree that "people should be referred to by the gender pronoun they identify with, even if it differs from the one assigned to them at birth"

The majority of Australians (59 per cent) agree that "people should be referred to by the gender pronoun they identify with, even if it differs from the one assigned to them at birth" A majority of all age groups share this view, with support highest among those aged 25-29 (73 per cent agree)

A majority of all age groups share this view, with support highest among those aged 25-29 (73 per cent agree) Overall, 67 per cent of women agree, compared with 50 per cent of men Sourced from the Australia Talks National Survey. This question was fielded to a nationally representative sample of 21,734 people.

We changed our language at home straight away, but it was some time before they felt comfortable asking for this at school.

Their school has always tried to be inclusive. At the start, the school sought advice and assistance about how to proceed from us and the Department of Education and Safe Schools, and Caius excitedly talked to their class about who they are.

It wasn't planned this way, but they went around to all of the other teachers and classes to answer questions and make sure that people could understand.

The little kids just got it. They already knew who Caius was, now they had accurate language to use.

The first photo of Caius as their "true self" after coming out at six years old. ( Supplied )

When others got it wrong, we would ask Caius if they wanted us to correct them and they would respond, "No, I want you to remind them".

Caius still feels a responsibility to teach others and make things better for the kids who don't have the support they do, and who will come after them.

Forced to choose

Caius is now 11 and in Grade 5 and things are not so simple. As they have gotten older, it seems to have become harder to accommodate their difference, as gender segregation becomes stronger and more enforced by their peers.

Providing non-gendered options has become too difficult, and often consigned to the too-hard basket in an attempt not to upset anyone (except Caius). The default is too often to classify Caius according to their birth-assigned sex.

How do you compare? We asked 54,000 people about their lives. See what they told us — and how you compare. Read more Read more

Sadly, Caius is learning to accept that they won't be included unless they choose a gendered group, or other kids choose a non-gendered one.

Caius loves to run and play sport. But every time they do, they need to choose which gendered group to join.

There isn't an easy answer — if they choose one, they face teasing and exclusion, if they choose the other, they are accused of cheating.

This happens at school, and most other places they want to engage in sport. Caius loved tennis until they graduated to the junior league — split into boys and girls. Caius loved participating in a kids' triathlon earlier this year, but the children were split by age and gender. Despite weeks of conversation and preparation with the organisers, it all fell apart on the day and nobody knew how to include Caius.

We've had a similar experience when we've tried to enrol them in circus, fun runs, and even academic enrichment programs. Most of the time the organisers are open to hearing from us and want to be inclusive, but the systems are not set up that way.

Caius loves sport but the gender restrictions create barriers. ( Supplied )

Confusion abounds

Caius is well supported by the team at the Royal Children's Hospital Gender Clinic. Yet every other part of the hospital struggles to accommodate. Caius hit their head falling from the monkey bars at school one day, and there was much confusion at emergency when we tried to explain "they fell about 2 metres onto their head".

Every medical professional we met responded, "who hit their head, is there another child?" We wanted to make sure they didn't have a concussion but ended up explaining Caius's gender identity repeatedly.

There are wins amongst the frustrations — just this month Caius received their first-ever passport, with an X marking their sex. They are looking forward to making the same change on their birth certificate next year. They have an amazing time at circus where all kids are considered equal regardless of gender and participate in exactly the same activities.

Caius is an intelligent, empathetic and understanding young person, who has a unique perspective of and respect for difference. They listen to the news and follow politics and get incensed hearing about injustice. They love listening to podcasts and learning about space and maths and science and they devour books.

We are grateful every single day that they were born into our family. That even though we were clueless in the beginning, we made it our priority to listen to them, to help them understand themself and their place in the world, and to try to smooth the way for them through a binary world.

Natasha and Liss are Caius's parents.

The majority of Australians (59 per cent) agree that "people should be referred to by the gender pronoun they identify with, even if it differs from the one assigned to them at birth", according to the Australia Talks National Survey. Use our interactive tool to see the results and how Australians' answers compare with yours — available in English, simplified Chinese, Arabic and Vietnamese.

Then, join Annabel Crabb as she takes you through some of the most surprising and exciting insights with Waleed Aly on the ABC TV special on iview.