Wielding sledge hammers, bats and crowbars, vigilantes overtook the jail and, one by one, dragged the young men outside, where an estimated 10,000 to 15,000 people had rallied. As Cameron watched from his cell, Smith was beaten to death before his body was strung from a tree. Shipp attempted to free himself from his noose, but had his arms broken before being hoisted back into the air. When it was his turn, Cameron—with the noose already around his neck—was improbably saved by a voice in the crowd proclaiming his innocence. He returned to jail and was ultimately convicted, serving four years. Mary Ball later recanted her rape accusation.

Local photographer Lawrence Beitler captured the brutal scene: Shipp and Smith’s bloodied, disfigured bodies hanging above a densely packed crowd—some smiling, one posing and pointing. Demand for the image ran high, and Beitler printed thousands of copies, selling the macabre mementos for 50 cents each.

After circulating for years, the graphic “postcard” reached Bronx high school educator Abel Meerpol, who was moved to write the 1937 poem that would eventually become “Strange Fruit.”

‘Southern trees bear a strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root
Black body swinging in the Southern breeze
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.’
// A verse from ‘Strange Fruit’

Billie Holiday recorded the song as a tribute to her father who died of a lung disorder, denied proper medical care because of his race. Her insistence on singing the tune at nightclubs left patrons uncomfortable and stunned—and helped tank her career. Still, it became an enduring anti-lynching anthem. As for Cameron, he was forever changed after the trauma of his attempted lynching, becoming a passionate civil rights advocate and going on to found the American Black Holocaust Museum. He was officially pardoned in 1993.

Although less well known than some civil rights figures, Harry Moore pursued the cause of racial equality with a dedication that eventually cost him his job and his life. Moore and his wife Harriette, both teachers in all-Black schools in Mims, Florida, were committed to the improvement of Black lives before becoming actively involved with the NAACP in 1934, when he founded the Brevard County chapter. As his activist passions grew, he filed a lawsuit for equal pay among white and Black teachers in 1937 and took on the issue of lynchings in Florida in 1943. (At the time, the state had the highest per-capita lynching rate.)

But his activism came at a price. In 1946, Harry’s involvement with the NAACP caused the couple to lose their teaching positions. In turn, he became a full-time paid organizer. As his association and work with the civil rights group intensified, so did the risk—especially after he became involved with the infamous 1949 Groveland rape case. After four young Black men were accused of raping a white woman, three were severely beaten while in police custody and the other was shot more than 400 times after escaping. Conviction by an all-white jury followed, and Harry campaigned to appeal their case and have Sheriff Willis McCall held responsible for their torture. A long legal battle resulted in the Supreme Court overturning the young men’s convictions but ended with McCall shooting two of the defendants while escorting them to their new trial—killing one and critically injuring the other. Harry, infuriated, called for McCall’s suspension and indictment.

Six weeks later, on Christmas night 1951, the couple’s 25th wedding anniversary, a bomb exploded beneath their bed. Harry died before reaching the hospital, and Harriette died nine days later.

‘It seems that I hear Harry Moore.
From the earth his voice cries,
No bomb can kill the dreams I hold—
For freedom never dies!’
// A verse from ‘Ballad of Harry Moore,’ by Langston Hughes

The Moores’ murder, unsolved to this day, became known as one of the first lynchings of the civil rights movement. News of the assassination spread swiftly, shocking and invigorating the country. Baseball legend Jackie Robinson, soon-to-be Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall and even First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt all spoke out against the targeted attack. Famed writer Langston Hughes honored and grieved the activist’s life with his poem “Ballad of Harry T. Moore.” Hundreds attended the activist’s funeral, and President Harry S. Truman was flooded with telegrams and letters protesting the assassination. Although the Moores’ murder eventually faded into the sea of lynchings in American history, it garnered great attention at the time and raised wider awareness of the burgeoning civil rights struggle.

Nearly 60 years after Emmett Till’s lynching, the killing of another Black teen—Trayvon Martin—shook the nation and incited a movement. But before the 17-year-old became an involuntary martyr, he was a high school student who loved video games and math class, looked forward to his junior prom and aspired to work with planes—even attending aviation school. But like so many Black people before him, his life was cut short, swiftly and unexpectedly, for no reason.

On the night he was killed, Martin was visiting his father in Sanford, Florida, during a 10-day high school suspension. Within the gated community, a series of recent break-ins prompted George Zimmerman—member of the neighborhood watch—to follow the teen as he walked home from a convenience store, even though law enforcement told him not to pursue. Martin, on the phone with his girlfriend, expressed concern about being tailed and began to run. What followed was a clash between the two, which left the unarmed teen dead from a gunshot to the chest, less than 100 yards from his front door.

Of the many parallels drawn between Martin and Till’s deaths, one of the most potent was the involvement of their grief-stricken, determined parents. Unsatisfied with the police investigation into the death of their son after watching Zimmerman walk free, claiming self-defense, Tracy Martin and Sybrina Fulton took their fight straight to the people. Their Change.org petition calling for Zimmerman’s prosecution garnered more than 2 million signatures, becoming the fastest growing campaign in the site’s history. Shortly after, the hashtag #Trayvon began trending on Twitter, and then-President Barack Obama spoke out about the killing.

‘When Trayvon Martin was first shot, I said that this could have been my son... I think it’s important to recognize that the African American community is looking at this issue through a set of experiences and a history that doesn’t go away.’ // 2013 comments by former President Barack Obama

Martin’s killing represented an outrage that Black Americans had seen and experienced firsthand much too often—typically with no justice. However, amidst growing public outcry, Zimmerman was charged with second-degree murder on April 11. His July 2013 exoneration, based largely on Florida’s controversial “stand-your-ground” law, sparked protests nationwide, igniting a renewed fight for racial justice.

In the same month Zimmerman went free, the hashtag #BlackLivesMatter was born. The phrase would become a rallying cry for justice when Black Americans are killed. And it would come to define a fiercely committed new generation of civil rights activism aimed at ending a legacy of hate, violence and callous disregard for human life.