Korynn Reviews 

# My Experience with HD Summer School / Zen Femme

I enrolled in the HD Summer School program by Zen Femme (Korynn) in June, paying $997 USD. I was genuinely excited to start — I even reached out early on when I had trouble accessing some downloads, and that was fixed quickly.

But after watching just two videos in the first week, I realized the course wasn't the right fit for me. Even in that short amount of time, the quality of the actual content felt noticeably below what was promised on the sales page — it didn't match the level of depth and polish that was advertised to get people to enroll. I didn't wait, didn't drag it out — I emailed within days to ask for a cancellation and refund.

That's when things got hard.

I was told there's a firm no-refunds policy, stated at purchase, and that the responsibility was on me to have "taken the personal steps to decide" before enrolling. I understood that policy going in, and I wasn't trying to argue with it. So instead, I explained my actual situation, human to human: I live in India, where $997 USD is close to a full year's income for me. I live with Muscular Dystrophy and use a wheelchair, and I'm the sole financial support and caregiver for my elderly parents. I asked, respectfully, whether they'd consider a compassionate exception given how quickly I'd realized the course wasn't for me and how little I'd used it.

The response didn't acknowledge any of that. It repeated the policy, and tied any further "personalized guidance" to a response deadline I'd have to meet — guidance that was "never offered for free." When I followed up saying I was hurt that my situation wasn't acknowledged at all, even briefly, I never got a reply that addressed it directly.

What struck me most through this whole exchange was just how cold and mechanical every response felt. Not one message showed any real emotion or human warmth — no "I'm sorry to hear that," no sign that an actual person had read and sat with what I'd shared about my disability, my family, my finances. It felt like I was talking to a script, not a person. Each reply read like it was copy-pasted from a policy document, regardless of what I said. I kept hoping that somewhere in there, someone would respond to me as a human being rather than a case number, and it never happened.

I want to be clear: I'm not upset that a business has a no-refund policy. Businesses are allowed to set terms. What's stayed with me is the coldness of it — the total absence of any acknowledgment of what I'd shared, at a moment when I was being as open and vulnerable as I could be about my circumstances. A short, human sentence of compassion — even while still declining — would have meant a great deal. Instead I felt like a ticket to be processed and redirected back to policy language.

If you're considering this program: know the no-refund policy is real and firmly enforced, even in cases of documented disability and significant financial hardship, and even when the request comes within days of enrolling and after minimal use of the material. And know that what you see on the sales page may not match what you actually get once you're inside — it only took me two videos to feel that gap.

I'm sharing this so others can go in with clear eyes — not to be spiteful, but because I don't want someone else in a similar position to be caught off guard the way I was.

If anyone would like to see the actual email exchange as proof of everything above, feel free to reach out to me and I'm happy to share it.

— Rakesh Singla