The shopping mall cafe bustles with the usual afternoon energy, but today I’m watching something unexpected unfold. A young woman, no more than 16, nervously approaches a discreet door tucked between retail storefronts. Above it, a simple sign reads “Kickstand Youth Health Clinic.” She hesitates briefly before pulling the door open and disappearing inside.
This is what healthcare access looks like for Edmonton’s young people in 2025 — right between the food court and the skateboard shop.
“We go where youth already are,” explains Dr. Mira Patel, pediatrician and medical director for the newly opened Kickstand clinic at West Edmonton Mall. “Traditional healthcare settings can be intimidating. But a mall? Kids are comfortable here. They know how to get here. There’s no stigma walking through these doors.”
The clinic, which opened its doors on June 1st, represents a significant shift in how we approach adolescent healthcare in Canada. It’s the third Kickstand location in Edmonton, but the first integrated directly into a major shopping center.
Inside, the space defies medical stereotypes. Warm lighting replaces fluorescent bulbs. The waiting area features comfortable seating clusters rather than rows of chairs. Artwork created by local youth decorates the walls. It feels more like a community center than a doctor’s office.
“That’s exactly the point,” says Jamal Harrison, youth engagement coordinator. “We designed this space with our youth advisory committee. They told us what would make them feel safe enough to actually come in for help.”
Last year, a survey by the Canadian Institute for Health Information found that nearly 40% of Canadians aged 12-24 report difficulty accessing mental health services. For physical health concerns, adolescents often delay seeking care until conditions worsen, particularly for sexual health, substance use issues, or chronic conditions.
When I visited the site in early spring, it was still under construction. The mall corridor was blocked off with temporary walls decorated with youth-created murals asking “What does health mean to you?” The responses, scrawled in dozens of handwriting styles, revealed a generation with a holistic view of wellbeing: “Being able to talk about my feelings without being judged.” “Having someone who understands what it’s like to be queer and Indigenous.” “Not having to choose between therapy and groceries.”
The clinic now provides primary care, mental health counseling, sexual health services, substance use support, and social service navigation — all without cost to youth aged 12-24. No health card required.
“That’s critical,” emphasizes Leslie Vargas, a social worker at Kickstand. “Many vulnerable youth don’t have identification, are estranged from parents who hold their health cards, or fear using family insurance that might disclose sensitive health information to parents.”
The West Edmonton Mall location wasn’t chosen randomly. Transit accessibility was a key factor, with seven bus routes connecting directly to the mall. For a city where winter temperatures regularly drop below -30°C, indoor access means youth don’t have to brave extreme weather to reach help.
“Edmonton’s geography creates massive barriers,” says Harrison. “A kid living in Mill Woods might need to take three buses over 90 minutes just to see a doctor downtown. That’s assuming they have bus fare.”
The project emerged from a partnership between Alberta Health Services, the Stollery Children’s Hospital Foundation, and the mall ownership. What surprised me was learning how the idea originated — not from healthcare administrators, but from youth themselves.
“We held community forums asking young people what would make healthcare more accessible,” recalls Dr. Patel. “Having services at the mall was mentioned repeatedly. At first, we thought it wasn’t feasible, but the mall management was immediately interested.”
West Edmonton Mall’s management sees the clinic as more than charity. “This is smart business,” explains Rima Chaudhry, community relations director for the mall. “Young people come for appointments and stay to shop or eat. Parents waiting for their teens become customers. But more importantly, it demonstrates our commitment to being a true community hub.”
Not everyone has embraced the concept. Some mall retailers initially expressed concerns about the clinic attracting “troubled youth” who might deter shoppers. Others questioned whether confidential health services should be offered to minors without parental knowledge.
Dr. Jordan Williams, an adolescent medicine specialist at the University of Alberta who is not affiliated with Kickstand, offers perspective: “The research is clear. When youth have confidential access to healthcare, they’re more likely to seek help early, before problems escalate. This saves lives, particularly when we look at suicide prevention and early intervention for mental health conditions.”
On a Wednesday afternoon, I observe the clinic’s waiting area with permission from staff. Two young men scroll through phones while waiting. A group of three girls talk quietly. A teenager with a skateboard tucks under his chair completes intake paperwork. None appear particularly “troubled” — just ordinary kids accessing healthcare.
What makes the Kickstand model unique is its integration of peer support. Former clients, now trained as youth workers, help newcomers navigate services. Nineteen-year-old Dani (whose last name is withheld for privacy) shares her experience: “When I first came to Kickstand, I was homeless and hadn’t seen a doctor in three years despite having chronic asthma. Now I’m housed, managing my health conditions, and helping other kids who were like me.”
The early data shows promise. In its first month, the mall clinic has already seen over 200 unique youth, 40% of whom report never having a regular healthcare provider before. Almost a third arrived for mental health support, while others sought sexual health services, general medical care, or help with housing and food security.
“This isn’t just healthcare — it’s prevention,” says Vargas. “Every young person who connects with appropriate supports now potentially avoids crisis later.”
As I prepare to leave, I notice the young woman I saw entering earlier. She exits with a subtle but visible change — shoulders more relaxed, face more open. Whatever brought her through that door, she found something she needed on the other side.
In a healthcare system often criticized for being rigid and inaccessible, the mall clinic represents something refreshingly adaptable. Perhaps sometimes, innovation simply means meeting people exactly where they are — even if that’s between the food court and the skateboard shop.
